The Last Rose to Fall
by Lady Morgause
Summary: You miss your family too much, Jethro...""Will you bring them back, Jenny?""No... I will give you another child" JIBBS. Dark/Angst/Romance
1. Past and Present

_A/N: English is not my first language._

_A/N 2: So here it is, the brand new __betaread first chapter. Thanks, mein liebe. _

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own NCIS__, __does anyone really believe I would?_

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Jethro Gibbs looked down at the tiny lifeless body in front of him. His mind was spinning, past and present all mixed together in a macabre dance. How could anyone hurt such a defenceless being? Only a truly evil spirit could ignore the wrongness of an act like that.

Her petite frame made a shocking contrast with the dark woods. The long, blonde hair was spread on the ground. She was wearing nothing but a thin nightgown, now grimy with dust. The eyes were closed, but he had the disturbing thought that they'd be as blue as…

- Gibbs, are you all right? - Ziva's voice echoed from behind him. He turned around and found her holding a camera, taking pictures of the crime scene.

- I'm fine. The guy who did this… I'm not so sure he'll be when I lay my hands on him.

Ziva thought it best not to reply. She looked at DiNozzo over Gibbs' shoulder, the unspoken question in her eyes. Tony just shrugged and his gaze returned to the body in front of them.

- I guess nobody likes child murderers - McGee said behind her. His face was pale, too pale.

- Of course not, but he usually makes his threats later on the case. Not at the beginning.

- Ducky's here - DiNozzo cut in. He wasn't in the mood for talking either.

The Scottish doctor was having some trouble going down the small, slippery hill. Somehow he managed not to lose his balance, or stumble in the big tree roots that came up from the ground.

- Hello, gentlemen… and lady - Ducky stopped near them with his faithful Mr Palmer at his side - Not a pretty sight, I'm afraid... - Slowly, he made his way to the body, leaving his medical bag nearby. With an experienced hand he opened the little girl's eyes. Their fair blue tint had small dark spots around the iris - Petechias. A little help here, Mr Palmer, we need to turn her.

- How old do you think she was? - Tony lowered himself down.

- My professionalism says only a dental exam will tell us for sure, my experience says around eight years old. Not over ten. No visible marks on the face, arms or legs… No visible signs of contusion or trauma… She does look quite peaceful, doesn't she?

- Yeah… that's pretty disturbing - McGee couldn't hold himself.

- I've seen younger children die in suicide attacks back in Israel.

- We're not in Israel, Ziva.

- For once, I'm glad we're not.

Tony looked at her, bemused. That had to be the only time he'd ever seen or heard his partner betray any sort of emotion. Under different circumstances, he would certainly be mocking her in front of everyone, right in the middle of the bullpen. At the moment, though, all that he felt was a certain... kindness towards her. Not that he would ever confess it.

- Where's Jethro? - asked the doctor - I haven't seen him yet.

- He was just here…- Ziva looked around - I can't see him either…

- McGee, go find the Boss.

- There's no need, DiNozzo, I'm right here. And I'm wondering why you're all just standing here too.

- We're… we're helping Ducky with the preliminary autopsy, Boss.

- Ducky has Palmer to do that. Your job is to find out who did this. And fast. DiNozzo, Ziva, search the perimeter. Turn every rock, search every single damned inch. McGee, find everything about Petty Officer James McMillian.

- Right, Boss. Why Pett…

- Today, McGee.

- Why are we investigating this? - Ducky asked once the team had dispersed. - Let's turn her again, Mr Palmer.

Gibbs showed him a plastic evidence bag.

- A medal - Ducky took the bag in his hand - An Achievement Medal, if I'm not mistaken.

- No. This was found in her hand. She was holding it very tightly.

- You should be glad rigor mortis hasn't fully set in, or you'd never be able to open her hand - he turned the medal over and read the inscription on the back

- Cause of death?

- No visible marks of anything, just the petechias in the eyes. I'm not sure yet, Jethro, but I bet asphyxia. Someone probably suffocated her with a piece of cloth, or maybe just covered her mouth with their bare hands. Time of death? Eight to twelve hours ago. I guess we can move the body.

- Yes, we can.

Duck motioned over to the paramedics - How was she found?

- A young couple. They were riding their bicycles in the woods this morning.

- Poor fellows. I hope they can get over this.

- They will, eventually. At least they're still alive.

* * *

At N.C.I.S. headquarters, McGee was setting up the last of the case notes on the computer. The team was waiting for Gibbs and he didn't make them wait long.

- Ziva, DiNozzo? - Gibbs asked, eyes fixed on the plasma screen.

- Nothing to be found, Boss. No footprints, no garbage, no leads of any sort.

- It's true - Ziva added, in the face of Gibbs' thunderous expression.

- There is always something to be found.

- I'm sorry Boss, but...

- McGee, you better have something for me.

- Petty Officer McMillian is now Chief Petty Officer - McGee said at once, typing quickly, bringing up information on the plasma. A photo appeared on-screen; a young man in his marine uniform. McGee read aloud - Born in Alexandria, Virginia, has served three terms in Iraq, is currently now on his fourth, more precisely in Mossul. Record is clean; he looks like the perfect officer. No even a parking fine.

- Family?

- Wife, dead in Iraq three years ago. A daughter who, by the description…

- …looks very much like our victim. Our marine is not a very lucky guy - DiNozzo completed.

- The girl's clothes?

- At Abby's. I left everything there myself, Boss.

- How did we get to Chief Petty Officer McMillian, anyway? - Ziva asked.

- The medal in the girl's hand - Gibbs held it up, secured inside a small plastic bag.

- What's the year?

- Two thousand and three - he handed her the baggie. She took it and turned it over, looking carefully at both sides.

- Have we contacted the father? - she asked, finally.

- About to. I'll be down with Abby and Ducky. When I come back, I want some answers.

- How? - Tony blurted out - We have nothing on this case!

- If you have nothing, go look for something! DiNozzo, Ziva, go back to the woods and search everything again. McGee, go with them.

- But we've already…

- Ziva, another word and you'll be on desk duty for the next case. You two, let her drive. I want you there fast.

Gibbs turned away from his distressed team and took the lift down to Abby's Lab. The usual head-banging music was cranked up as loud as it could go. He found her slurping through a Caf-Pow straw, as she usually did while running a search on her babies.

- Tell me you got something.

- Gibbs! - she dropped the straw in surprise.

- What are you running?

- I found some sort of glue in the girl's nightgown. - The computer completed its current task even as she spoke. She checked the results - Pinewood resin.

- She was found in the woods, there must be resin all around.

- I will try to match this resin with some from the woods. Maybe they don't match… well, they probably will match, this is the most common type of pinewood resin in North America, but…

- Abby, just run the test. And fast. I'm tired of wasting valuable time.

- Gibbs, is everything all right?

- You're the second person to ask me that today.

- Maybe… maybe it's because you don't look all right - she put the Caf-Pow on the table and looked at him, concerned - My silver fox looks… nervous.

- I'm fine. Ok?

- You sure?

- Damn it, Abby, of course I am! - he snapped, moving away from her. He walked into a table in his anger and sent three flasks and some vials flying to the ground, where they exploded into millions of tiny shards.

- Gibbs! Are you hurt?

- No!

- This glass is really thin, you may have microscopic pieces under your ski…

- Abby, run the test, all right?

She looked at him, confused. Gibbs had never shouted at her before, she had always been her favourite. What the hell was going on? - Fine. This won't take long, if you want to wait. Tony brought some samples from the pine trees - she turned away from him and grabbed a vial, one that was still in one piece, into which she dropped a colourless liquid. She then walked over to the evidence baggies the team had left in her lab and found one with a small piece of tree bark - Gosh, I hate resin - she muttered when the bark stuck to her gloves. With a flip of her hand, she dropped the bark into the vial, shook it and placed it in the centrifuge.

- Miss Sciuto? - Cynthia's voice crackled through the intercom.

- Yes?

- Is Special Agent Gibbs there with you?

- I'm here. What do you want? - Abby was startled by the rudeness in his voice.

- Please report to the Director's Office immediately.

Gibbs stared at the intercom, directing his rage towards it. He left the lab without a word and burst into the lift, ignoring the junior agents who had called it first. When he reached the top floor he stomped along the corridor, walked past Cynthia's office without a word, and threw himself against the door he'd been headed for.

- The doorknob works fine, you know - Jenny didn't even look up from the reports she was reading.

- What is it now? I'm in the middle of a case, I have no time to chat.

- I'm aware you're in the middle of a case. So's the entire building - she dropped the report on the desk, took off her spectacles and looked straight at him.

- What's that supposed to mean?

- Yelling, breaking things, people getting shoved… and for the cherry on top of the cake, you've pissed off the entire Police Corps of the Virginia State!

- What?

- Are you going to deny that you've insulted the Commander of their Richmond Corporation?

- That was because he didn't cooperate. He was trying to steal the case.

- Are you sure that he wasn't just trying to help?

- I know stealing when I see it. Did you kiss his ass enough… or does he want something more?

- Everyone's right, you really are unbearable today.

- Who's everyone?

- What's happening, Jethro? Are you all right? - Jenny rose from her chair and walked around the desk.

- If someone asks me that just one more time I'm going to start shooting.

- Isn't it better to admit that the case is getting to you?

- What are you implying, Jenny?

- That you are taking this too personally!

- Why should I do that, Director?

- Because the girl reminds you of your daughter.

Jethro tried to answer, but his mouth had run dry. Jenny had hit the spot. And he hated it when she did.

- I have a case to solve. Goodbye, Director.

- Special Agent Gibbs! - she said, stopping him in his tracks - Wait. I have information for you.

- And just now you tell me?

- You would have gotten it already if you were at your desk or if had your mobile phone with you. Ducky's finished the autopsy. The little girl did die of asphyxia.

- Is that all?

- No. Abby sent me a message just a minute before you came in. The resin matches the sample from the woods. No clues there. - Jenny came closer to him - I understand this is hard for you…

- Don't patronise me.

- Jethro, don't hide under the shell.

- If you need anything else, I'll be downstairs. Being useful.

She sighed, sadly, more sadly than she wanted him to hear - Go on, then.

He turned his back on her without a word. She just stood where she was for a few seconds until she recalled that there was still the matter of the Virginia Police to deal with. She went back behind her desk, sat on her chair, took a deep breath, grabbed the phone and said - Cynthia, call Commander Stevenson again.

_Who doesn't like reviews? _


	2. Clues and Dead Ends

A/N: This chapter was supervised by my boyfriend so, hopefully, there aren't that many errors. The first chapter will also be corrected as soon as we both have time. Darling, this is dedicated to you, for all your love, support and above all things, patience with me.

* * *

In the woods, Tony, McGee and Ziva stepped carefully, trying not to erase anything that could be hidden amidst the mud, leaves and branches. The winter wasn't helping: the rain on the previous night had probably washed away any evidence left... and sunset was close, although it wasn't even 1700 yet.

- I give up! – Tony exclaimed, sitting on a long tree log – The Boss is out of his mind, there is nothing here but mud. Look at me, I'm covered in mud!

- Gibbs will kill us if we go back empty-handed. We've been safe until now just because there's no mobile phone service out here.

- I'm with Tony, Ziva – McGee sat too, wiping the sweat from his forehead – We've been here for hours, we've searched all the damned woods three times. If there was any evidence, the rain washed it away.

- It's weird… - Ziva insisted.

- What? Gibbs's behaviour?

- No… the lack of evidence. If I learned something since I got into this agency, is that there is always something to find… however tiny or unimportant it might seem at first.

- It was the rain, as McGeek said. Missing your computers, Probie?

- Yeah, a lot. I'm starting to freeze.

Ziva ignored them - The girl's body and clothes were dry, she was left here after the rain. Can't you see it?

Both men coughed, trying to hide the shame.

- That's… hum, very perceptive, Ziva.

- No, it's not, and you know it. If you weren't so keen to return to headquarters, you would have spotted it too, hours ago.

- So, why aren't there any traces of footprints or anything around the body's dumping area?

- I… don't know, McGee… the soil…

- The soil was certainly soft and slightly wet, ideal to leave nice, well-defined footprints – Tony teased, digging his boot into the damp ground, leaving a perfect boot-mark on it – See?

- There were marks but… - Ziva tried to recreate the scene – bike marks…

- That's it! – McGee exclaimed.

- What about it, Probie? The young couple that found the body was riding bikes.

- Yes, and we assumed those were the marks we were seeing. But what if they weren't?

- Abby would have spotted two sets of bike marks in the photos. And so would you, Ziva, when you took them.

- Not if they belonged to equal tires – Ziva realised what McGee was thinking – We must go back to D.C., we have work to do on those bikes and tires.

- Not very promising work… it's just a guess.

- Do you have a better guess, Tony?

- So out of thousands of tires in D.C., Maryland and Virginia, we just happened to get two equal sets? One from the murderer and the other from two innocent bikers?

- That's Abby's job. And it looks like you are no bike expert. Some bike tires models sell better than others.

- I'm with Ziva, Tony.

- Ten minutes ago you were with me, Probie. Traitor. Ok, one poor guess is better than nothing. Better than the mud, at least. But if it doesn't pan out, you two better deal with Gibbs.

.

At the MTAC, Jenny waited in one of the comfortable armchairs for the technicians to finish setting up communications with Iraq. In times like these, she was very fond of the darkness of the room. Nobody needed to see the Director distressed and anxious.

- Director?

- Yes?

- Connection established. When you are ready.

She rose to her feet – Get it on the screen.

The multicoloured bars disappeared from the screen and she faced a military camp in Iraq. A tanned man was sitting in front of the camera, looking stern. The entire base camp buzzed behind and all around him. Men were carrying heavy rucksacks while another group was busy around a military Lorrie, loading it with something that was beyond her sight.

- Lieutenant Tucker reporting to the Director of NCIS. What can I do to help, madam?

- Lieutenant Tucker, I'm going straight to the point.

- Yes, madam.

- Is Chief Petty Officer McMillian available?

- He is supervising some works, but I can get him here for you, madam. Just a second. Excuse me.

Jenny saw him getting away from the screen and waited. They didn't take too long and she didn't know if it was good or bad. She would rather face an entire squad of armed terrorists than be the bearer of bad news.

- Chief Petty Officer McMilian, madam.

- Lieutenant Tucker, may you leave us alone?

- Yes, madam – once again, he disappeared from the screen.

She used those few seconds to observe the man in front of her. Early thirties, dark blonde hair, tanned skin as all the others in there, fair eyes and strong complexion.

- At the risk of sounding rude, madam, am I in some sort of trouble? It's never a good thing to hear from the NCIS around these parts and to have the director addressing me personally...…

- Chief Petty Officer McMilian, I'm afraid I don't have good news…

- Madam…?

- Your daughter, Elizabeth Holly McMilian, was found dead this morning.

The blankness in his face made it even worse. The entire face had hardened into a wax mask, painful to watch. Jenny decided to give him some time.

- Lilli… is dead? – he finally managed to say. He was fighting tears at the corners of his eyes.

- Yes. The NCIS is currently investigating and we will update you about any event until the case is solved. Also…

- Madam… she is only eight years old…

- I know… - her professional tone had gone softer – I am so sorry…

- Thank you – he had given up the fight and the tears were now rolling down his face – How…

- She was found in the woods just outside Richmond, Virginia. Asphyxiated.

- Any clues on… who did this?

- No, not yet, but I can assure you than we have our best team working on the case.

- Thank you, madam…

- I'll need to ask you some questions, Chief Petty Officer McMilian. Who was taking care of your daughter while you are out?

- Her nanny… Sarah, Sarah Johnson. I have no other family besides Lilli… I had to hire a nanny. Haven't you talked to her yet?

- No, but we will. Thank you very much, Chief Petty Officer and again, I'm sorry for your loss. We'll keep in touch…

- Sorry to interrupt madam, but I will return to D.C. as soon as possible. I won't stay here while my daughter is lying cold on an autopsy table. The NCIS may then get in touch with me at my own address – his features were now cold as ice.

- Alright. But, Chief Petty Officer, I know what you're thinking about, and I strongly advise you not to go that way… – she felt like a hypocrite. After all, she too had gone that way - followed it to the very end - to avenge one of her own. Not that she was proud of it now.

- Pardon me, madam, but I don't know what you are talking about.

- You know, Chief Petty Officer McMilian. As I said, we'll keep in touch. In Iraq or here in D.C.

He just nodded, his grief striking him again at full force. Jenny signalled to the technicians, indicating that the communications were over. Slowly, she removed the headset. She definitely hated being the bearer of bad news.

Downstairs, Gibbs was fighting with his mobile phone. Annoyed, he tossed it at McGee's directions, forcing him to grab it quickly if he didn't like to end up with a black eye.

- Find out what the Director wants.

- It's only a text message Boss, not an encrypted communication.

- Just read it.

- "CPO McMillian notified. Investigate Sarah Johnson, nanny."

- Sarah Johnson? – Tony asked from his desk – They couldn't have hired a nanny with a more exotic name? I don't know, Savannah Martinez perhaps? There must be thousands of Sarah Johnson!

- Would you trust your child to someone with a name like that? – Ziva didn't even bother looking away from the computer screen.

- No, but I don't think that's ever going to be a problem. I'm very conscious about my lifestyle. I'm fully aware that I have no time to spread or raise little DiNozzos, however cute and adorable they would be.

- And annoying too. But I don't think Chief Petty Officer McMillian knew that his country would be going to war as soon as he had a "little McMillian", so a nanny was really the only-

- DiNozzo, David, will you two shut up and work? – Gibbs shouted from his corner.

- Sorry, Boss. Eyes on the screen.

- There's 670 women named Sara Johnson – McGee interrupted, turning his computer's screen to face the rest of the team – In Virginia, Maryland and D.C.

- Start filtering them. Age, job… Couldn't the Director at least have asked him what the hell the woman looks like??

- You talk too soon, Special Agent Gibbs - He'd been interrupted by no less than Jenny herself, standing right in the middle of the bullpen, holding a file in her right hand - Here, Jehtro. Sarah Johnson. Not that you actually deserve it – she dropped it onto his desk, heading towards the lift.

- How the hell did she…

- That's the Director's job, DiNozzo - Ziva mocked - but don't worry about it. You'll never get there anyway.

- Shut up, Ziva.

- "Sarah Marie Johnson, Caucasian, born on September 8th, 1985 – Gibbs read – Last year student in the Waverly University, Mathematics"… isn't this the same university as your sister, McGee?

- Yes, Boss.

- It may come in handy. "Full and Part-Time nanny. Parents…" there's nothing of interest in here – he threw the file back to his desk.

- Am I the only one that thinks the nanny is dead too? – Ziva asked.

- I'm afraid not – McGee answered.

- Then why dump the little girl in the woods and take the nanny to some other place?

- I hate to say this, but you may have a point there, Tony.

- Watch and learn, Probie.

- Since everyone seems to agree that the nanny, dead or alive, is the answer to solve the case, why are you still sitting so comfortably in your desks?

- What do you mean, Boss…

- Get your asses out of here and go look for the girl. McGee, Ziva, go to the McMillian house and process it, from top to bottom. Tony, you come with me, we're going to trace a perimeter around the house and search for Sarah Johnson.


	3. Fairness and Justice

A/N: _Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you were really kind. Once more, this chapter had the precious help of my boyfriend. Thanks again, love._

* * *

- Great, cotton swab duty… - Ziva took a fibre from the floor near the settee, packing it into an evidence bag.

- You don't like desk duty, you don't like… what did you call it? Cotton swab duty. So what do you like? – McGee while browsing through the desktop – Don't answer. Trigger duty.

- McGee, remind me not to let you in when I throw my next dinner party for the team. And I didn't say I don't like to process a place, but Tony and Gibbs are certainly going to find much more than us…

- Since when do you throw dinner parties? You simply cook for everyone, instead of letting Gibbs bring the usual take-away.

- Complaints, McGee?

- No, far from it. By the time I retire, I'm bound to have severe stomach problems from the years I've spent eating take-away in the agency.

- Learn to cook.

- I did. I practice on those rare weekends we don't have work to do.

- McGee, I'm truly impressed - Ziva ended the search around the floor, grabbing the ultraviolet from her forensic case – Well, the nanny or the housekeeper are not extremely zealous but I haven't found anything worse than dust rabbits.

- It's dust bunnies.

- Whatever. So let's see beyond the naked eye… - she examined the same area carefully with the UV light – Nothing. All I have so far are some discouraging fingerprints. This case is really making me edgy.

- At least you are just edgy. Gibbs is going insane.

- Do you think so? – Ziva continued to flash the UV light around the living room.

- Don't you?

- Well… yeah, he is more involved than usual, I suppose… and more impatient with everybody…

- He yelled at Abby.

- Did he? To his favourite?

- Yes, she told me. And he broke some stuff in her lab.

- Expensive stuff?

- No, some vials.

- Everyone has cases that get on their nerves. We had ours too, McGee – she ducked, trying to see under the furniture.

- I know, I know… But we weren't in charge and we didn't piss off the entire country… well, you did when you were sitting on your desk making all those phone calls during the Dempsey case.

- Very funny. I'd like to see you in my place.

- No, thanks. I can't find anything relevant here, it's a typical kid's computer, lots of Winnie the Poo and other Disney games. I don't think the nanny ever laid hands on this desktop – McGee opened the internet browser – But she has MySpace. Account name "Princessarah". Hand me that laptop you've found upstairs.

- Are you sure it's her?

He opened a copy of the file the Director had given to Gibbs – Twenty two years old, living in D.C, occupation last year's student at Waverly University/ nanny, brown eyes, dark hair, fair complexion and the photos match the one in the file. Yes, I'm sure it's her.

- You could have said that in the first place. More dust under the furniture – she rose from the floor.

- Ziva, the laptop please.

- Since that you asked politely, I'll give it to you – she went over her forensic case – Take it, I don't know why you didn't start with this one anyway. All pink and fluffy. Practically screams teenage girl all around.

- Are you in a hurry? We won't go anywhere until we process the entire house. And Sarah Johnson is not a teenager anymore.

- She looks like one, judging by her laptop. It even has stickers.

McGee switched on the laptop, his eyes never leaving the MySpace website – Do you notice something about these photos?

- Let me see. Yeah, that guy over there appears in most of them. Looks like her boyfriend

- I was thinking the same thing – McGee pointed the cursor at the person in the photos. – No, she isn't fond of putting people's names in the photos. Let's see if she has the same ones in the laptop… damn, it's password-protected. Ziva, pass me my equipment, it's in my case.

- What am I today, your maid?

- Alright, please then. Is Gibbs' bad temper contagious?

- Good boy. Here you go.

McGee connected the laptop to his own. It didn't take him long to be able to break into the pink laptop's OS. Soon, they were looking at the desktop wallpaper - a photo of Sarah Johnson and the mysterious "other guy"

- Yeah, definitely her boyfriend – muttered Ziva.

- Let's see if he has a name – McGee opened the My Images folder, immediately finding what he wanted – "Dan and me during Spring Break".

- Dan who?

- "Me, Dan, Alicia and Russell at Miami beach…" and the list goes on. No surname.

- That's helpful…

- Are you finished there?

- Yes, the living room was the last one to process. I'm done.

- Let's return to headquarters, I'd rather take the laptop and work there. Besides so we should give Abby what we found.

- Ok, just let me pack my things.

- I'll help you.

_

In the car, three or four streets away from the house, Tony was carefully watching the road. Alright, probably not as carefully as Gibbs wanted, but they had passed that street five times since they arrived and everything was looking pretty much the same.

- I hope Ziva and McGee find something because we're not having much luck here, Boss.

- More work, less talk, DiNozzo.

- Ok then, Special Agent DiNozzo reporting to his supervisor; the convenience store now has two less customers than it had seven minutes ago, the fat guy still hasn't decided whether he wants to take the sports magazine or the newspaper, that woman still hasn't managed to quiet her three kids down, the clerk... Boss, that one hurt more than usual! – he whined, rubbing his stinging neck where, seconds ago, Gibbs had headslapped him.

Gibbs ignored his complaints, driving on through the neighbourhood. His mobile phone rang – Yes, Abby?

- Gibbs, McGee and Ziva returned less than an hour ago and I ran the tests on what they found…

- I hope they found something useful…

- Well, to be honest, just a couple of fingerprints…

- Abby! – interrupted a voice Gibbs recognized as McGee's, echoing from some other part of the lab.

- Alright, they also found the first name of the nanny's boyfriend, but I was the one who did the rest of the work.

- Abby…

- Fine, I won't waste your time. They found three different sets of fingerprints: the small ones belonged to little Elizabeth, no surprise there. I got no match on the other set, but I'm pretty sure it's Sarah Johnson's. Finally, there's a partial, blurry thumb. First I thought it was Chief Petty Officer McMillian's, because of the bad shape it was in, but when I ran it through AFIS, wham! Daniel Tyson. That "Dan" guy McGee and Ziva found in Sarah's laptop.

- What do we know about him?

- Twenty four years old, arrested in 2003 for small theft. Looks like he and his buddies decided to rob some booze from a gas station in Virginia. How clever…

- What's the genius doing now?

- Driver's licence from D.C., studies in the Waverly University, works as a clerk in a convenience store. I'll send his address and photo to your phone.

- Thanks Abbs. I owe you a Caf Pow. - Said Gibbs, hanging up.

_

- And some vials too… He hung up on my face! – Abby exclaimed to McGee, who was finishing up the examination of Sarah Johnson's laptop.

- Welcome to the Gibbs' Club of Non-Favourites, Abby.

- At least he promised me a Caf Pow. See, he is getting nicer as the case goes on.

- If you said so.

_

- Boss, it would be really nice to get there in one piece, you know? – Tony said, firmly gripping his seat.

- DiNozzo, you really are talking too much today.

- Have you been taking driving lessons from Ziva?

- DiNozzo, I'm warning you!

- Sorry Boss, but I love my life too much to be inside a car at almost 120 mph in the middle of the city! Gibbs stopped the car abruptly – We're here.

Tony gazed into the little store – What if this isn't his shift?

- We go to the University.

- Yeah well, he's probably here anyway. – The last thing he wanted now what another round in a car with Gibbs.

They entered the convenience store, which was pretty much the same as all the others neighbourhood stores - small and narrow. A woman passed by them carrying grocery bags and the young man behind the counter was staring at them. Tony immediately recognized him from the photo Abby had sent.

- Daniel Tyson? – Gibbs asked.

- Yeah…

- N.C.I.S – both men showed their badges.

- And what's that?

- You're not very friendly for someone who has to deal with costumers most of the day – Tony intervened.

- If you earned what I do, you wouldn't be, either. So are you guys cops or…

- Federal Agents.

- Really? Fancy that...

- That's enough! Where's your girlfriend? – Gibbs took a step further, making the young man lean back.

- What?

- Sarah Johnson – he took the photo from his pocket – Or do you have more than one?

- I don't where she is right now. Probably studying, it's like the only thing she does in her life…

- Wouldn't hurt you to do the same – Tony said. The man was getting on his nerves, too. – Didn't you notice she's been missing since last night?

- She has? – for the first time, Daniel Tyson looked sincerely worried.

- Yes, and that's not the whole story. Elizabeth McMillian was found dead this morning. Didn't you know her as well?

- Yes, she's the little brat Sarah babysits on, bu…

Gibbs grabbed him by the collar –You know, I'm really loosing my patience with you. Why don't you just tell us everything you know.

- Hey man, I told you, I don't know a thing! - He looked over at DiNozzo – Look, isn't this police brutality, or something?

- Well, not really…

- Where were you last night?

- In my room, in the university!

- Got anyone to corroborate that?

- No, I was alone, my roommate was out in some party.

Gibbs mobile phone rang again. Irritated, he pulled it out of his pocket without letting go of Daniel – Yes, Director?

- Jethro, the Virginia Police has found Sarah Johnson. Alive. She was wandering outside Richmond and is shocked and injured. They will bring her to us the moment she leaves the hospital here in D.C. The hospital also sent some samples of DNA that were found under her fingernails. Abby's just finished analysing them. They're Daniel Tyson's.

- Right – he switched off the phone – Looks like we are going to have a meeting. Your girlfriend was found.

- How is she?

- That's what you're going to see when we get there. Tony, get him in the car.

_

Ziva, McGee and Tony were all looking at the new suspect from behind the window. He was looking as arrogant as before but much more nervous, sitting up very straight, his eyes darting around the interrogation room.

- Where's Gibbs? – Ziva asked.

- I don't know, but he must be arriving soon – Tony answered.

- Who's going to interrogate him?

- I'm not sure, but it won't be you, Ziva. We like to keep you for the muslins and foreigners.

- Don't forget the thugs – McGee added.

- Very funny, you two. Look, Gibbs is comings.

- And he's not alone… - Tony noted.

Gibbs and Jenny appeared in the corridor. The team could see from their faces that the conversation wasn't going well.

- I need that girl here now!

- She will be, as soon as the doctors say she can face an interrogation, I told you! She's suffering from severe trauma and hasn't said a word to the doctors, she won't speak to you either!

The team waited for them to finish. Gibbs entered the room with Jenny still behind him – You just stay here and listen. I'll be the one interrogating him.

- Not alone.

- Excuse me, Director?

- Jethro, you are not going to interrogate him alone. For all I know, you'll jump on him and strangle him dead.

- And may I know who is coming with me?

- I am.

Gibbs gazed exasperated at her, but said nothing. He went to the door and the team heard him mutter while passing near the Director – Missing the field, Jenny?

She followed him, not bothering to answer.

Inside the room, Tony grabbed an empty chair from the technicians' table and put it in front of the window.

- Mind if we ask what the hell you're doing? – Ziva asked as he sat down.

- Watching the performance. So, we are going to have a little taste of that famous partnership, Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Jennifer Sheppard. Here, McGee, grab a chair. Sit down and learn, Probie.

- All you want is a better angle to stare at the Director's legs.

- No, Ziva. As you might have noticed, her skirt today is too long for that.

- I'd like to listen, if you don't mind. – McGee cut in.

Gibbs was now entering the room, closely followed by Jenny. Tyson looked up at the sound of the doorknob, suddenly very alert.

- Did you bring reinforcements? – he said, looking at her.

- Good manners, boy. They are going to be very useful in prison.

- And why should I go to prison?

- For aggravated assault on Sarah Marie Johnson – Jenny intervened – At least. We still have the murder of Elizabeth McMillian…

- What the hell are you saying?

- Don't play the innocent. Yes, Special Agent Gibbs, he definitely needs some good manners.

- I want a lawyer.

- That can be arranged. But you still have to answer some questions. For instance, where were you last night? – Jenny approached his desk.

- I told him, I was in my room, it's not my fault no one can back me up!

- Is that a scratch on your neck?

He pulled up his collar but Gibbs was quicker, pushing it down until it revealed some scratches in his lower neck.

- Save us all some time – Gibbs said, doing his best to stay calm – We have your DNA under your beat up girlfriend's nails and you have what looks like defensive wounds, so stop lying.

He was not as arrogant as before. His eyes had lost their swagger and were now fixed meekly on a point in the middle of the desk.

Seeing as the suspect remained silent even under Gibbs' deadliest glare, Jenny made a sign to the window and Ziva appeared at the door in a few seconds.

- Yes, Director?

- Bring me the case photos.

- Sure, madam - she returned with them even quicker.

Jenny opened the file and spread some photos in front of Daniel, forcing him to look at it – It looks like you need something to refresh your memory. This is your girlfriend after the police found her. Three broken ribs and a deep cut in her forehead. Of course that I'm not counting all the bruises and slashes – he tried to move away from the photos – And here is little Elizabeth after we found her…

- Take it away!

- Are the memories coming back now? - Gibbs asked.

Daniel tossed the photos away from himself – It was just an accident! Alright? Just a fucking accident!

- An accident perhaps, but it cost a little child her life – Jenny grabbed a chair and sat across him. Gibbs came closer, staying behind her chair – A confession now might attenuate the sentence.

He was still trying to avoid their gaze, staring at the naked wall next to him. Jenny felt Gibbs' fingers closing too tightly on the back of her chair and she reclined a bit, pressing her shoulders against his hand, telling him not to make any moves.

- That marine didn't like me in his house – he finally said, still not looking at them – He told Sarah she couldn't have friends in his house while he was out.

- But you where there, we have your fingerprint.

- I was! Yes, I was. I work all day and try to study every minute of my free time. And Sarah is even worse, studying every hour when she was not taking care of the kid. I went to the McMillian's place, there were things we had to sort out. She didn't want to let me in and we argued. I forced my way in. We kept arguing. She tried to get to the phone and I hit her. She fell onto the floor. The noise must have woken up the kid, she appeared in the stairs, crying for Sarah. Sarah didn't get up, she'd passed out. The kid's cries were really freaking me out, and the neighbours were bound to hear her, so… I don't know what I did, I just put my hand on her mouth. I was just trying to make her shut up.

- You asphyxiated her – Jenny said, trying to control herself, trying not to react like Gibbs_. _

- I didn't want to!

- What did you do then?

- I… I panicked when the girl fell to the floor, lifeless. I put her and Sarah in my car and drove to Richmond. I grew up there, I know it very well… I left the car just outside the woods, took my bike from the luggage and rode deep into the woods with the girl's body. I left her there and I returned to the car. When I arrived, Sarah was waking up. I tried to grab her, we fought but she managed to escape.

- And then?

- Then, I... I returned to my room, changed my clothes and went work.

- What a responsible attitude. I'm sorry that your boss is going to lose such a good worker. You'll get your lawyer now. You'll really need it. - Jenny rose from the chair, looking at Gibbs, indicating that they should leave now.

- What a despicable... - she began to say the moment the door closed but he cut her words.

- You've gone soft with the years.

- What did you want me to do? Torture him?

- No. But he didn't deserve all that sympathy.

- Sympathy? Jethro, you must be kidding… - she looked at him – Oh, I see… someone is getting territorial just because I took part in his interrogation.

- I don't need a babysitter.

- Jethro, you…

The door from the little room opened next to her. Tony, Ziva and McGee all stood at the doorframe.

- Nice work, Bosses… oh, you were arguing. Sorry about that – Tony pushed Ziva and McGee back into the room.

- Agent DiNozzo.

- Yes, madam?

- There's no need for a retreat.

- Well, if you say so… - his eyes were now flashing from his Boss to his Boss' Boss and, overpowered by Ziva's not-so-gentle shoves, he moved aside – Congratulations madam, I haven't seen anyone pull out a confession that fast in a long time.

- Thank you. You all did a good job today – Jenny turned, heading towards the lift and her office.

- Ziva, DiNozzo, take that scum downstairs to the cell until someone comes here and takes him. I'm not in the mood to see his face again – Gibbs said – McGee, go with them if you want.

- Right – Ziva looked down at her watch – See you at the bar afterwards?

- Is there a meeting already?

- Well, why not? After we're done with our beloved reports, of course.

- I might show up – Gibbs nodded, heading towards the bullpen.

- Ok, we are going to tell Ducky and Abby – Ziva took her place next to Tony and both entered the interrogation room while McGee waited outside.


	4. Ghosts and Regrets

A/N: _Thanks again to everyone that reviewed, you really made my day. And once more, this chapter is dedicated to whom I love._

* * *

Jenny tried to concentrate on the reports. She never fully understood why the Director of N.C.I.S. had to read so many papers. Nothing of what was there was new to her. She followed every investigation, certainly not in the field but at the MTAC or simply by talking to the cases' supervisor.

The letters in front of her were breaking off, not forming words anymore. She was probably just tired. She tilted her head a little bit and checked the time in the clock. 2200. The pile in front of her left her only two options: or she would either take it to home and read in her bed until she felt asleep, which certainly wouldn't take much longer, or she could stay there in her office, reading, sleeping a few hours in the couch and sneaking into the gym's showers early in the morning, rid herself of all the sweat and stress of the long day and night and change into the spare clothes she always kept in her desk drawer. All of that before anyone arrived at the building, of course.

None of the options really appealed to her. All she wanted now was to drive home, get into bed and sleep free of alarm clocks. But that luxury had been gone for a long time. So she adjusted her glasses and kept on reading.

A knock at the door awoke her from her near doze – Yes? – wasn't the building supposed to be empty?

- Jen, it's me.

- You're actually knocking? Alright Jethro, come in.

- Earlier today you mentioned the doorknob was working properly, so I decided to give it a try. – Gibbs said from the doorway.

- I was talking about the way you always fling yourself at the doors. I swear, someday I'll have to get the door replaced. But I never expected you to knock.

- It's not fair. I've done it before.

- Have you? I can't remember. But come in, don't just stay there.

Gibbs approached her large desk and sat on a chair – Planning on staying here all night?

- I guess I'm not the only one. What are you still doing here?

He showed her two plastic bags he'd kept hidden – Feeding you.

- What?

- Dinner. You never remember that you have to eat when you work late.

Jenny took off her glasses, looking at him rather incredulously – Wait a minute. Why are you being so nice to me now, after a long and trying day in which you've managed to piss off the entire agency?

- Well, I realised I've been a pain in the ass.

- Who are you and what did you do with Leroy Jethro Gibbs? The Jethro I know would never admit to such a thing.

He shrugged, but grinned a little – It depends. Are you still the Director's Doppelganger?

She let out a small laugh – I can't believe you finally looked that up.

- Hum, not really. I had McGee look it up in one of his online dictionaries. Does it count?

- Never mind. What do you have there?

- Italian food.

- Italian? Not Chinese?

- No. Pasta.

- I still don't recognise you…

Gibbs reclined in his chair, his eyes not leaving hers – Alright Jen, I know I haven't been an easy person today so just let me make it up to you, ok?

- Fine. So, hand me the pasta.

He passed her one of the plastic bags – Tagliatelle alla Carbonara, your favourite if I remember correctly.

- How did you know?

- Positano.

- Of course – there was that brief moment of silence which usually followed any mention of past times. She was the first to break it – So, you're having… what was it, Fettucine alla Bolognese?

- Right. Your Italian sounds terrible – he mocked while she was searching for the plastic knife and fork.

- Do you think yours is better? Let's leave the matter with DiNozzo.

- He's right down there in the bar, if you want to ask him – Gibbs opened his food plate.

- Is he? Oh, of course, I heard something about your team meeting tonight. So, why aren't you there as well?

- The case isn't completely solved yet, I've nothing to commemorate and they shouldn't either.

- But we have him in custody, all that's left now is just plain bureaucracy. Oh, and the girl's testimony, that's not bureaucracy.

- I've sent Abby the prints from Tyson's bike tires. I hope she can find a match by tomorrow, despite it being the same model as the one from the couple who found the little girl.

- You really want to build a strong case.

- Of course I do. That stupid little bastard took the life of a child. I don't care if it was an accident.

- Why didn't you ever tell me?

This time it was Gibbs looking at her doubtfully – Tell you what?

- About Kelly, Shannon…

- Why are we going this way?

- Because it's always… it was always painful for me to remember that I only knew about it when you were in a coma. I feel like… you never trusted me enough to talk about it.

- I had nothing to talk about.

- Hadn't you? It still haunts you.

- Jen, do we really need to go that way?

- Fine, I'll shut up.

Both returned their attention to the food.

- So, are you going to sleep here one more time or do you miss your bed? – Gibbs asked when she put her empty plate on the desk.

- I really miss my bed. Much softer than that couch.

- Dismiss the security detail. I'll take you home.

- I've already dismissed them.

- What? Jenny, you are way too careless with your own safety!

- You, of all people, should know that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

- Yeah, you are. But even so, you were kidnapped, remember?

- My driver was being threatened, I couldn't just start shooting.

- Have you made your choice? Stay here or go home?

- Jethro – she pointed towards the pile of reports – See this? If I go home, I will fall fast asleep and I won't read anything.

- I never understood why you don't just sign the dotted line.

- That would be irresponsible. But I'm going to accept your offer after all. My eyes are tired – Jenny rose from the chair and grabbed her coat while Gibbs was getting rid of the dinner's garbage – Ready?

- Yeah. Let's go.

- Are you sure you don't want to meet your team? – she asked while they were descending in the lift.

- If I go into that bar it will only be to kick their asses out of there, it's too late for them to be there. If anyone comes in late tomorrow they will have to deal with me.

Jenny laughed – Pappa Gibbs.

- What?

- You and your team are like a family. That's… nice to see.

- You're family too, Jenny.

She leaned against the lift wall – No, I'm not.

- You are. More than you think.

- I was never this familiar with my teams when I was supervisor.

The lift stopped in the ground floor.

- You were a supervisor? – Jethro let her pass first through the open doors.

- Of course I was. Not here in D.C. And not for a very long time, since I was always being sent to undercover missions. Jethro, I trailed the entire path to the Director position. I didn't sleep around as many people like to say.

- I never thought you did.

She smiled but decided it was best to change the subject – Where's your car?

- Right here.

She was going to open the passenger's door when he prevented her – I'm atoning, remember? Let me be the almost perfect gentleman – Gibbs opened the door himself.

- Sorry, I'm not accustomed to you that way.

He got into the driver's seat and started the car. The park and the streets were practically empty at that hour. Gibbs even looked around for any member of his team but saw no one.

- Jenny, do you think… - he began to say but noticed she was sleeping, her head leaning against the window. He smiled lightly and accelerated. It wasn't too long before he was parking in front of her house.

- Wake up, Jenny – he gently shook her shoulder – We're here.

- Hum… what? – she muttered, trying to open her eyes.

- We arrived at your door.

- Did we? – she managed to look around, recognising the place.

- You've been working too much lately.

- Talk about the bat leading the blind – she finally felt awake - Do you want to go inside for some coffee?

- Better not.

- Come on, Jethro.

- It's late, Jenny.

- A bourbon, perhaps?

- I'd rather not.

Her face hardened - What's the problem, Jethro?

- Nothing. I should just go home.

- For what? – her voice was now tinged with irritation - Oh right, you didn't sand your boat this night, you must catch up with the work – she reached for the doorhandle but he grabbed her hand.

- Now I'm asking you. What's the problem, Jenny?

She looked at him in defiance - It's all my fault, isn't it, Jethro? I was the one who said there'd be no "off the job". And I was the one who left in the first place. Fine, I'm probably a bitch – she managed to free her hand and opened the car's door – Goodnight Jethro and thanks for the lift – Jenny slammed the door and walked in a fast pace to her door, not looking behind.

He punched the steering wheel – Damn! – he waited until she got in safely and only then drove off, the car's tires squealing in protest with the speed.


	5. Mourning and Marines

_A/N: Thanks everyone, the reviews are always a welcome addiction to the fun of writing! Darling, once more your help was vital to me. Love you so much. _

Anthony DiNozzo knew very well that arriving late was one of the greatest sins. Fine, it was his own fault, he shouldn't have stayed at the bar for so long. And above all, he shouldn't have drunk so much beer. He couldn't believe that a couple of drinks, tiny ones at that, would leave him so sleepy. It had never happened before, why… No, he certainly wasn't getting old, he refused to admit it.

He parked his car in the last line, forcing him to run to the building. For Gods' sake, he was a Senior Agent, why the hell had no one given him his own parking space yet?

Entering the building, he noticed he wasn't the only one from his team who was coming in late. Gibbs was just a few feet away from him. DiNozzo's eyes jumped from his Boss to the lift, almost closing and almost full, and he made a decision: run like he never ran before.

A well-positioned hand prevented the lift's door from closing and he landed inside wearing a triumphant grin, shoving aside some grumpy colleagues from other teams. The last thing he saw before the doors closed was Gibbs' annoyed face. Alright, he was going to be headslapped for this, but he wasn't going to arrive late. Well, at least not after his Boss.

- 'Morning Probie. 'Morning Ziva – he said while approaching his desk.

- 'Morning, Tonino – Ziva and McGee replied almost in unison.

- What?

- I told you, McGee. He doesn't remember a word.

- Care to explain? And fast! – A glance at the lift's lights told him it was moving again.

- Well, last night you became Ducky's rival when it comes to storytelling. We now know every single bit of your childhood, youth, a few highlights from college and most of your adult life… Tonino. Wasn't that what Nonna Addolorata called you?

- Hilarious, Ziva… Hey, Hi Boss… ouch! – he'd been headslapped, as expected.

- Sometimes I think you actually enjoy this, DiNozzo. Is the nanny already here?

- Yes, Boss. We were just waiting for you – McGee answered taking his eyes from the computer screen.

- How is she?

- Looks like she was hit by a truck. And a big one – Ziva said.

- Well, let's try to be gentle. Everyone come with me.

The team followed Gibbs through the building to the interrogation area. Despite being early in the morning, the agency was full of workers wandering through the corridors looking rather busy.

- McGee, hand me every file related to the case… You're already here? – Gibbs stopped with all of his team behind him. Jenny was at the end of the corridor, by the interrogation room door. Cynthia was nearby, carrying a pile of documents and looking rather tense, as she always did when Gibbs was around.

- Address your superior properly, Special Agent Gibbs.

- There's no need to pull rank on me, madam – if she was going to play the Director, he wasn't going to be nice either. Behind him, he could hear his team whispering "So much for Ducky's reconciliation theory …" How the heck did they know about his late night visit?

- Anyone have anything to say about the case?

- No, Boss. – DiNozzo.

- Thought so. And Director, am I allowed to speak with my victim and witness or I need to have someone around me again?

- You may go.

- Thank you. Madam - he turned the doorknob and entered. His team took their place in the observation room. So did Jenny.

- You'd have to be a big SOB to get a girl looking like that… - Tony said the moment they stepped into the room – Huh, pardon my french, madam.

- Don't hold it in, Agent DiNozzo. That guy is a son of a bitch.

The girl, sitting on the other side of the smoked glass, barely resembled the mugshot they'd all seen in the files. A large bandage covered most of her forehead and dark hair. Her face was swollen around the eyes and mouth, and the skin was slashed. Even from a distance they could tell she was having trouble breathing.

Gibbs closed the door and approached her desk. The sound made her jump in her seat, and her eyes darted to his figure at once.

- Good morning, Miss Johnson. I'm Special Agent Gibbs.

- Good morning… - her voice was barely audible.

- Are you comfortable?

- Yes, I think so… well, its hurts anyway I sit...

He grabbed the other chair and sat across her, dropping the files on the desk – I have your first statement here, the one you gave to the Virginia Police.

- Yes? I don't actually have much more to say…

- The report is very brief, the priority was to take you straight to the hospital. We have your boyfriend in custody and we need to close the case. He will be transferred to a federal prison today, so…

- I don't want to see him. I'm not… I can't believe he… killed her – her nerves were shot, Gibbs realised. The girl was close to breaking point.

- Please calm down. You don't have to see him. But I still need some information.

She nodded silently.

- Could you tell me what happened that night?

The young woman looked at him, pleading. Gibbs met her gaze, held it, and in a few seconds she managed to start talking.

- It was late. I'd made dinner for me and… and Lizzie. We ate from trays in the living room, watching Cartoon Network. She just loves cartoons… like every kid. We played a little after dinner. Monopoly. Then I sent her to bed. I read her a little bedtime story and then I went downstairs. I washed the dishes and cleaned up a bit. When the house was tidy, I sat at my desk in my room. I was studying when I the doorbell rang. It rang furiously until I got to the door. When I saw Dan I opened the door just a crack. I knew why he was there, it was because… because early that day I said I wanted to break up. I told him to go away but he kicked the door and came in. After that... my mind is a little confused, I… I just remember running away from him and… yes, I tried to get to the phone but then he…

- He hit you.

- Yes… he grabbed my shoulders and I tried to defend myself, I must have kneed him or something, I don't know. All I remember is that he punched me in the face and I fell. He kicked me in the chest. I tried to get up but I couldn't, he wouldn't let me. I must have hit something, because I can't remember a thing, just the pain…

- You banged your head on the floor.

- After that… Oh my God – she buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

Gibbs reached for her hands and slowly lowered them – Hush. You can't change the past.

- When I opened my eyes... It was dark. I tried to move my head but I couldn't. Then I heard some odd noise really close by and with an effort, I turned. It was when I… I saw. Him. Dragging her away. She… she was so… so… limp. My heart just stopped.

- What did you do then?

- I... I tried to get up, but I had no strength left. I was confused. I don't know how long it was, I don't even know where I was. I heard him coming back and I panicked. He was… riding a bike?

- Yes.

- He saw me awake and ran. I screamed and tried to climb out of the trunk but he forced me back in. I remember I hit my forehead then. I kicked him hard and somehow managed to free myself. I started to run, just wanting to get away from him. I kept doing it until the police found me.

- Very well. Is there anything else you'd like to add?

- No… - her sobbing had calmed down but the pain in her face was fiercer than ever.

- Then we're finished. Want a hand getting up? – Gibbs didn't wait for the answer and let her grab his hands. He was still impressed him by how deeply she was hurt.

- McGee – he called from the door.

- Yes, Boss? – McGee left the observation room.

- Take the girl to Ducky. She isn't looking too good. If he agrees, take her home.

- Right. Come this way, Miss – she did and they both took the lift. Gibbs followed through the corridor towards the bullpen, but some voices made him stop.

One was much too familiar, and the other one he didn't recognise at all. It belonged to a man in a marine uniform, who was talking to Jenny. Only when they both turned did he recognise Chief Petty Officer McMillan from the photo he'd seen. A suitcase in his hands showed that he had certainly just arrived from Iraq.

- Jethro, this is…

- Chief Petty Officer McMillian, Madam Director.

- Yes. And this is Special Agent Gibbs, the case's supervisor.

- You've done your job well, Agent Gibbs. All I can do is to thank you – many changes had occurred to the man since the day he had taken that army's photo. The purple shadows under his eyes betrayed his sleepless nights. The coldness and formality were just masking the pain. Gibbs knew that better than anyone.

- There's no need for that.

- Jethro, maybe you should take Chief Petty Officer McMillian to one of the conference rooms – Jenny felt his gaze on her the moment she talked. She turned, now addressing to the marine – The body will be released today.

- Thank you, madam.

- Agent Gibbs, if you would – Gibbs nodded and took the other man with him. While they were passing by the bullpen he remembered something and headed for his desk.

- I believe this belongs to you – he open the top drawer and took out the medal, still inside the evidence bag.

James McMillian took it from his hand and turned it over – My first medal. Lizzie was always stealing it from my cabinet. When I left to Iraq I let her keep it. She said it was a way of having me around. Where did you find it?

- In her hand.

McMillian's face was suddenly not so cold anymore. He grabbed the medal tightly, and said – Sarah said, once, on the phone, that she took it everywhere in her pockets...

Gibbs didn't answer, still guiding him through the building. It wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

* * *

Jenny waited until the technicians cut the communications to let the professional smile vanish from her face. SecNav was really unbearable today and she had run out of patience halfway through the conversation. She dropped the headset on the nearest table and ran a hand through her hair. Her head was throbbing and she felt exhausted. She reached for one of the chairs in the front row and sat, stretching her tired legs.

- Want some coffee?

- Is that real coffee or that horrible murky thing?

- I don't like it much, so it's probably real coffee. Take.

She grabbed the plastic cup – So, how long have you been sitting here unnoticed, Jethro?

- A couple of minutes. I dismissed my team.

- I bet they all vanished in a matter of seconds. On Fridays, everyone in this agency does.

- Well, my agents do it every day I let them leave earlier. They are always afraid I might change my mind.

- How did the conversation go? I meant to ask, but I just didn't have the time.

- Thank you for bringing up the one topic I absolutely loathe to discuss.

- Jethro, are we going to argue in the middle of MTAC?

- I'm not arguing. But you never talked about La Grenouille or your father's suicide. Why do I have to discuss my daughter's murder with a perfect stranger?

- Because you were a marine like him, and because you've gone through the same situation. So all that Marine solidarity you are always talking about is just a bunch of crap?

- Of course not.

- Jethro, I'm really not in the mood for this. Say what you've come to say and leave.

- Nothing to say. I just came to get you some coffee.

- Are you a delivery boy now?

- No, I was trying to be nice. And you're pushing me away, as usual.

- Oh, so I pushed you away last night.

- I knew we still had that problem.

- Jethro, it's Friday. Everyone else is going away to enjoy the weekend, and I'm stuck here, and I'll be stuck working until God knows when. So please. Get out. Go sand your boat, or something.

- I'm done with the sanding.

- What?

- You heard me. I'm halfway done with the painting. I thought you knew.

- I haven't been in your basement for a long time.

- Want to go and see for yourself?

- What do you mean?

- Leave the work. It's not that early, and you've a right to enjoy the weekend as everyone else.

- Jethro, barely a minute ago we were at the brink of an argument and now you're inviting me over?

- I'm tired of arguing, Jen. Aren't you?

She turned her head, facing the now empty screen. – Yes. I am.

- So are you coming?

- I suppose Cynthia would enjoy leaving an hour earlier. Wait for me in the car, I won't take long.

_What about a review, dear reader?_


	6. Souls and Sorrows

A/N: _All the reviews were lovely, thanks everyone. Darling, I apologise for not letting you sleep properly because I'm always nagging you to betaread my latest chapter. But as you know, your help is so important to me and you better than anyone know how my English is improving. Thank you, my love._

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Gibbs' front door was unlocked, as usual. Jenny buttoned her coat up against the freezing cold of a January evening. Her face was paler but her cheeks were flushed and she could have sworn that her hands were two blocks of ice.

- Are you coming in, or do you want to turn into a popsicle? – he said, pushing the door open. She happily followed him, entering the dark hall and closing the door behind her. He switched on the lights – Much better now. It'll be a few minutes before you actually feel the heat.

- No problem. Even with the heating off, it's still much better here inside.

- What about dinner? Do we order or do we go out for some take-away?

- We order. Let the delivery boy turn into a popsicle – Jenny felt herself relax as the central heating thawed her hands back into flesh and blood.

- Fine. Chinese? Pizza? Something else?

- You choose.

- Alright, but don't complain later. Let's go to the basement then, I'll order from there.

Jenny nodded and followed him through the house and down the stairs. Her stiletto heels were loud on the wooden staircase, and the sound echoed through the silent rooms.

The boat was very different from what she remembered. The wooden skeleton was now totally covered by long wooden boards, painted blue. Since it was upside down she couldn't be sure, but it looked like the cabin was already completely built.

Her gaze drifted towards the name – Kelly – she heard herself say.

- Yes.

- Better than name it after another of your ex-wives, I suppose.

He didn't answer, pretending he was busy trying to find the mobile phone. Jenny let him pretend, her attention still fixed on the boat. She didn't even hear what he ordered. She approached the nearly-completed vessel and touched it.

- My rival.

He dropped the bourbon bottle he had reached for just a few seconds ago – What do you mean?

Jenny turned her head – Nine years ago, only your boats could take you away from me.

- Feeling melancholic, are we, Jenny? – he poured some bourbon and handed her the glass.

- I suppose so – she accepted it. When he turned his back, she carefully blew away the sawdust gathering on the top of the glass.

Gibbs poured himself a glass – Dinner will be here soon. Still not feeling warm?

- Feeling better, anyway. I think I'll take my coat off – she placed the glass on the nearest table, removed the coat and half-tossed it beside the glass. It would end up covered in sawdust as well, but she didn't care – You were very gentle with that girl today. I was surprised.

- What do you take me for, Jen? She was the least to blame in this whole affair.

- Yes… And somewhere along her statement I got the impression this wasn't the first time he actually hit her.

- Me too.

- Well, it's Friday, let's forget about work.

He laughed – Is that possible?

- Why not give it a try? – she waved her empty glass – More, please.

- You drank it all already?

- So did you. Don't try to make me look like a hopeless alcoholic.

- Last year your drinking habits had me worried.

- Last year wasn't a good year.

The doorbell interrupted them.

- I'll get it, wait here.

She watched him go up the stairs and poured herself another drink. She looked around for a chair, found one, and sat down. Her eyes wandered again to the name written on the boat.

- Chinese food – Gibbs returned carrying two plastic bags.

- Are we going to eat here?

- Why not?

- No reason. I was just wondering why you even have a kitchen and dining room at all.

- Here is better.

- Ok, it's your house.

He opened the plastic bags and took out the food – I think I might have some trays somewhere upstairs…

- Never mind, they'd take hours to find and I'm hungry.

- The Director of N.C.I.S. eating from her lap – Gibbs smiled and gave her the plastic plate.

- You've seen this Director here doing worse things.

His smile turned into a mischievous grin – You have a point there.

- Jethro! I wasn't talking about that!

- Ok then – he sat on a small bench by her side, holding his plate in his hands – This here chauvinist is not going to bother you again.

She smiled and began to eat after pouring them both another drink – The boat is looking well.

- Do you think so?

- Are you really asking for my opinion, Leroy Jethro Gibbs? I'm no boat expert, but yes, it's my sincere opinion.

- Thank you. And I've always cared for your opinion.

- Even when I'm… a bitch?

- You only turned into a bitch after you became the Director.

- It comes with the job, I suppose – Jenny took a long sip – I don't know if this is the bourbon talking, but I've got a confession to make.

- Go on.

- I really felt like a bitch the day I advised DiNozzo to have sex with Jeanne Benoît.

- You did what?

- You heard me. He had been trying to avoid it but she was getting suspicious and all I could think about was the case and… well, you know the end of the story. La Grenouille floating in the channel with my bullet in his head and Tony's heart broken. All done by me.

- Long live the Queen.

His cold words went straight to her soul. He had truly hated her in those days, back when they were chasing The Frog. And now she heard that same hate in his voice. She decided to remain silent but had to move away from his piercing bitter gaze and, once more, her eyes fell on the name.

- What were they like?

- Who?

- Kelly and Shannon.

- Damn it, Jen, can't you just drop it? – he rose from the bench and dropped his empty plate on the table, a little more violently than necessary – Is this your latest obsession? Every time we talk, these days, you have to bring it up. Why? Why are you so interested, all of a sudden?

- I just want to know them. They were so important to you. And clearly they still are.

- They were the wife and daughter I couldn't protect. Period.

- I know how they died, Jethro. I want to know how they lived.

- That's all been buried, Jen.

Jenny pushed her food away and stood up. She approached him quietly – Jethro... I like to think that I used to be one of the few people you ever really trusted. I know I screwed it all up the day I left you with nothing but my coat and a measly note in its pocket. But that was almost nine years ago. Since I came to D.C. as the Director, we've been slowly building our friendship again. And it's clear to me that you need to talk about it.

Gibbs was still gazing furiously at her, but she didn't even blink. Realising she wasn't going to step back, he turned to the table and dug through all the tools messily strewn across it. When he faced her again he was holding something out towards her.

- Take it.

Jenny grabbed what she'd thought was a book but now realised was a photo album. She sat on his bench without a word. The first thing she noticed was that, unlike everything else on that basement, it wasn't covered in sawdust. The cover was simple, plain and brown. There was nothing written or painted on it. As she opened the album, she felt his presence just above her shoulder.

A woman and a child were smiling at her in the first page. Redheaded, of course, she could see it even in the blurry colours of an old photo. Something about the little girl drew her attention.

- They were beautiful – she said, looking up at him – Your daughter had your eyes.

- That was the last photo they sent me.

Jenny nodded and turned the page. A younger Shannon Gibbs smiled up at her, in an even older photo.

- She… was different from your other ex-wives. At least the two I know.

- I never chose well after Shannon. Not including you, of course – he added hastily. He definitely needed another glass of bourbon. He poured her another one as well, out of habit.

- Thank you – Jenny accepted the glass without taking her eyes from the album's pages.

He moved nearer to the boat, quickly emptying the glass. The sound of the turning pages was getting on his nerves. Some part of him, irrational, kept calling it a betrayal of his family memory, but the other half was only thankful for Jenny's concern… even if he'd never admit it.

Behind him he heard the soft thud of a closing book, and turned to face her – Thanks for sharing – she said. The album was resting on her lap.

- Happy now?

- No. Talk with me, Jethro.

- Still bent on making me get it off my chest?

- Yes.

- I need another drink.

- You've had enough.

- No, I haven't. And this is my fucking basement, so if I want to drink more, I'll drink more.

- Fine. Do as you please.

Gibbs went to the opposite corner of the room and came back with an unopened bottle.

- Shannon never cared for bourbon – he heard himself say – and unlike you, no matter how I tried, she never did get the taste for it.

- She was smart, then – Jenny smiled lightly.

He poured them both yet another drink – Kelly was very bright. Her teachers kept telling us that. She always got good grades.

- That must have made you proud.

- Yes. I remember one day she asked me to go to her school and talk about my work. I mean, what can you tell six year olds about life in the Marine Corps?

- I get the picture.

- Shannon said I should just talk about the nice things, but you know what? I couldn't think of a single one.

- You were happy together, weren't you?

- Yes. Pretty much. We argued sometimes, of course. Every couple does. Shannon complained a bit about my work taking me away so many times. She didn't want me to leave for Iraq. If I only knew…

- You couldn't have done anything.

- How did you feel when you shot La Grenouille?

Jenny's expression became wooden. Her first instinct was to avoid the question but then she realised it wouldn't be fair, not after she finally got him to talk to her. – Avenged. Cold. And… yes, a little mad. I had gotten rid of him at last. I had done justice after all those years. No one could blame me because I was the head of a federal agency. I was above everything. Especially above reason, I'm afraid.

Gibbs' hand caressed a loose strand of her hair – I felt avenged too the day I shot their murderer. That scum had no right to live, not after taking two innocent lives.

- At least you had better motives. Yes, my father was probably corrupt, and he was probably a coward, and so he probably did shot himself, took the easy way out. I only wish I'd seen it before.

- You never told me if you were close.

- I don't know if we were. He raised me, in true military fashion. I guess that's what made me feel I had to avenge him. We cared about each other, but there was never much in the way of... affection.

He nodded sagely – I see.

She went for her glass and took another sip, as Gibbs grabbed the chair and sat by her side. When his hands pulled her towards him, gently but firmly, Jenny almost dropped her glass in surprise; and then she allowed him to lean her back against his chest, closing her eyes to feel him better.

- Jethro…

- Hush. Don't talk.

Her head was getting heavy; the bourbon was finally taking its toll. The last thing she knew was that his hand was still caressing her.

_Reviews make me a happier person._


	7. Ails and Heals

_A/N: This chapter has taken a little longer to be uploaded but New Year's festivities left me with less time. But now everything has gone back to normal and here is the brand new chapter, once more dedicated to the love of my life who has to endure tasks like correcting four pages of story in a less of an hour. Love you._

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The soreness in the back of her head made her come to her senses. She tried to move to another position, but instead of getting rid of the discomfort it only made it worse. Now her entire head seemed about to explode. And she felt inordinately cold...

She summoned all of her strength and, with the help of not very trusty hands, she managed to half-rise before her head banged against some hard thing. With a low moan, she rubbed her forehead and tried to look around. The darkness was complete; not a single beam of light.

And then she remembered. She was in Jethro's basement. Somehow she had ended up sleeping on his cold, dust-covered floor, and she had banged her forehead on his boat. And judging by the headache, she had probably drunk like a sponge.

So, where was Jethro? A nearby faint breathing sound answered that, as well. He too was sleeping on the floor, not very far from her.

She managed to sit on her knees, trying to put her sore body in a more comfortable position. She definitely needed to pull herself together.

She could now recall every minute of last night's conversation. They had both dropped their defences and opened up to each other. Finally, all the barriers had been brought down. She remembered his touch better than anything else. The way his hand had gone through her hair, across her cheeks, over her chin…

A thought made her gasp. She felt her clothes hurriedly and her heart sank when she realised that her suit was all wrinkled and that she had lost one shoe. After groping around, she found it tossed on the floor as well.

She felt around more closely, and then began to relax. Yes, her clothes were wrinkled, but everything was where it should be. Apparently, their inebriation hadn't made them jump into each other's arms, as she had feared. And now she didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

- Can't you be less noisy? – his voice was slurred.

- I'm not making any noise at all, Jethro. That's you with a hangover.

- Ouch… so that's it…

- Can't you switch on the lights?

- Wait a moment… - Jenny heard a soft bang, heard him swearing under his breath, and imagined she wouldn't be the only person with a bump on her head.

When the lights turned on, she felt as awkward as ever. Gibbs was in front of her with his right hand on the switch. His shirt was crumpled and his short hair was dishevelled. Even from the other side of the basement she could tell how red his eyes were. A glance down told her she didn't look any better.

- Here – he approached her and helped her get to her feet.

- Oh, my head... - the basement began to spin around her, forcing her to close her eyes. Carefully, he leaned her against the boat.

- Better?

- Dizzy – she managed to open her eyes – Jethro, how did we end up sleeping in your basement again?

- You fell asleep in my arms. When I got sleepy, I just laid you on the floor.

- Couldn't you have taken me to your settee instead?

- Too drunk to go up the stairs.

Jenny pressed a hand against her aching forehead. At least the dizziness was stopping.

- But I don't know how you ended up so far away – he added – I'm sure under my arms was cosier.

- I… guess I must have rolled away. Could you get me my other shoe, please?

He bent down and grabbed the tossed shoe – Don't lower your head, you'll feel much worse – he said when she tried to put it on herself – I'll do it for you.

- Thanks.

- Feeling better?

- Getting better.

- Sit here. I'll make us some coffee. Some good, strong, black coffee.

She nodded and sat on the same bench as the night before. The way her head was throbbing was annoying and distracting. Not the way she wanted to wake up after that night.

The strong scent of caffeine came onto the stairs at the same moment Gibbs did.

- Here.

She took the cup and brought the liquid to her lips. It was indeed strong, and not at all to her taste – And you drink this even when you don't have a hangover?

- Sure. Why not?

- Glad you didn't brew it like this when we were partners. It would have ruined all our chances of a liaison.

He smiled, taking a sip from his cup – But I bet you're not as dizzy anymore…

- No. Now my stomach is plotting against me. But that's more the bourbon's fault than the coffee.

- Jenny… - he came closer – I'm getting worried. Do want me to go the drugstore and get you something?

- No, I'm fine. We just drank a lot. And you, how are you feeling?

- Still have that headache.

- What time is it? – she suddenly asked.

- Jenny, it's Saturday.

- I know, but I have things to read at home, and I have that lecture next Monday. I have to work on that lecture.

- You never rest, do you?

- You know I can't.

- One day Cynthia is going to find you unconscious on your own carpet…

- … and then you'd have to play the Director until I woke up. Your worst nightmare come true.

- I'm only concerned about your health.

- My health is better than ever.

- Fine. So what are you going to do? Call your driver and security detail and leave?

- I can't show up in front of them looking like this – Jenny pointed to her crumpled suit and messy hair – But I bet they've been looking frantically for me.

- Who's in charge of detail today?

- Hum… not sure. Probably O'Connor, he's been heading it this week.

- Dennis? Obsessed as he is, he'll turn the entire city upside down until he finds you. It's a wonder your mobile phone didn't ring yet.

- Actually, I was wondering that myself… where's my handbag?

Gibbs put down his cup on the counter and handed her the handbag that was lying near her coat.

- Ah, here's why the phone didn't ring. The battery's flat, mystery solved. Where have you got a power plug?

- Use this one here – he ducked near her and unplugged his screwdriver – Wouldn't you rather use my phone instead?

- No, I don't want them getting ideas – her sore back protested when she bent to plug the charger – I don't know how you can sleep almost every night on this floor…

The Blackberry's screen lit up and she typed in the password. As soon as the mobile phone came to life it started beeping, complaining of missed calls and text messages.

- Mind if I flush it down the toilet?

- Jethro…

- It has been such a quiet morning…

- Damn, SecNav called… - Jenny was getting bothered as she continued to read the long list of missed calls.

Gibbs took the phone from her hand – You were the one that said we should forget work, last night.

- I know. But I didn't expect to wake up on your basement floor with a mother of a hangover while SecNav and Senators were trying to contact me.

He put the phone on the table – Live a little, woman.

- Right. I'm going to build a boat in my basement too. Can you give me some tips?

- You were nicer when you were soaked in bourbon.

- Fine, get me drunk again. Apparently, it's the only way we can get along.

He grabbed her hand and forced her to sit down – Don't ruin last night, Jenny. And listen, I'm not going to let you leave until you're completely well. And since you don't want to call your driver, I'm going to drop you at your house. So go upstairs, if you want to take a shower. It will make you feel better.

Her phone rang before she could say anything. O'Connor's name was flashing on the bright screen. She sighed and took the call. – Sheppard… Yeah, I'm in one piece. No… That's no concern of yours, Agent O'Connor. Wait for me at my home address… No, I have no appointed hour to be there – she hung up.

- I told you. He's a pain in the ass.

- I've noticed. So about that shower… have you got any hot water or did you forget to pay the bill?

He laughed, more relaxed after seeing her less harsh – I'm sure I had it yesterday morning.

- Great. I really need to do something for my back – Jenny rose to her feet and went to the stairs – I won't be long.

Gibbs waited until she was out of sight, bent down and unplugged the phone's charger. The Blackberry's screen went dark almost instantly. Smiling, he went up the stairs and headed towards the kitchen. He rummaged around in his cupboards, trying to find something for her to eat. No luck. He didn't keep any food at home as a rule, unless you count coffee and bourbon.

Going back to the hall, he grabbed his coat and went outside, almost running to the nearest coffee shop. Ten minutes later he walked out carrying three bags of proper food. He made his way back home, not expecting her to be ready yet.

Jenny had dried her hair as best she could with a moist towel, and was taking a last look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She had tried to smooth the creases off her suit as best she could, and cleaned it off as much sawdust as was possible. Feeling a little better, she went downstairs to the basement. He wasn't there, which surprised her, but Gibbs had heard her footsteps as she went by and called down - Kitchen - She went up the stairs again, and stepped into Gibb's kitchen.

- Now here's a room I haven't seen in a while. Where did you get all this? – she asked, when she saw the table set for two.

- I bought it. I wouldn't take you home empty stomached.

- And they say chivalry is dead. Now let's see if the bourbon will let me keep it all inside.

- It's worse if you don't eat anything.

- You sound like a doctor, Jethro – Jenny grabbed a chair and sat. She noticed a plate of muffins – I can't remember the last time I ate a proper breakfast.

- More of a continental breakfast – he poured them two mugs of coffee.

- It's enough for me. Anyway, I'd run to the toilet if I even smelled frying bacon or eggs. How's your head?

- Throbbing a little, nothing to worry about.

She sipped the coffee cautiously. It turned out to be much tastier than the first one. Apart from the muffins, there was also fresh bread. Jenny, used to surviving on quick bread, found it a welcome addition.

- I'm feeling much better now – she said later, after drinking the coffee, eating the bread, and while she was munching on the last piece of her muffin – Thank you.

- You're welcome. You always are. Do you want to go now?

- Are you sure you can drive?

- Sure I'm sure.

- Let's go, then – he finished his coffee and followed her out into the hall – Oh, your coat and handbag are still downstairs. I'll go get them.

- Thanks.

He was back in a minute, her uncharged Blackberry safely hidden away inside the handbag – Cover your head or you'll get ill. It's too cold, and your hair's too wet.

- Thanks for the warning, Ducky – she said, touched by his concern but not showing it. She looked inside her handbag, found a scarf and covered her head with it before crossing the doorway.

- Your hair has grown out of that boyish hairdo at last – he said while she was trying to put every strand under the scarf.

- Jethro!

- Redheads should never wear their hair short.

- That's rule number…?

- Hum, I have to count. - Still laughing, Jenny got in the car. Soon they were crossing the streets of D.C.

- Saturday morning. Every family in the country decides to go out for a walk – Jenny remarked, looking out through her window. The streets were full of people gazing at shops, taking late breakfasts, and generally greeting the first morning of the weekend.

- It's called living. We should try it sometime.

- We did. In Europe. I remember.

- Ah yes. But back then we were constantly in danger of getting shot, so I'm not sure it counts.

They drove past downtown and were soon approaching the residential area of Georgetown, with its wealthy neighbourhoods and colonial mansions. It had probably snowed a bit during the night, judging by the nearly-white lawns and rooftops. Jenny was praying she wouldn't find her front door blocked by a big, white mass.

- Here we are – Gibbs stopped in front of her house – And there is your security detail – he added, recognising the car parked across the street.

- So much for privacy – Jenny sighed. So in the end she'd be seen in Jethro's company. She should have thought of that. Well, at least her security details had always been discrete, she thought, opening the door. The morning cold hit her squarely on the face, making her blink.

- Jenny?

- Yes?

- Thank you. For everything. I probably… should have done it before.

- I think I should thank you too. Sometimes… - she interrupted herself.

- What?

- Sometimes I feel like you're the only person I have left.

He smiled – You can always count on me, you know that. Even when we piss each other off, or you have to pull rank.

- Thank you, Jethro.

- You don't need to thank me. Well, go on, Jen. Go bury yourself in work.

She giggled softly – I will. Bye, Jethro.

She closed the door and went inside. The cold was almost unbearable. She heard the car driving away and went up the stairs, dropping her handbag, coat and scarf on the large bed. She took her phone from the bag and wondered why it was turned off. Not wanting to delay the call any longer, she used her house phone.

- Ducky? It's me… Yes, I know, but I'd run out of charge on my mobile. We can talk now.

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	8. Offers and Hopes

A/N: _I guess this is the chapter that everyone is waiting. Here it is! __ Your reviews have been so lovely, thanks everyone. Darling thanks you for betaread such a huge text in such a few time. And thank you for your support in all my writing adventures. _

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_One month later_

Ziva David was not a woman of patience. That had caused her some trouble - nothing she hadn't been able to get out of, though. But there was one situation that really got on her nerves.

- Antony DiNozzo, how much longer is it going to take you to pick a damn candy?

- I thought serenity was supposed to be an Asian trait.

- Guess what, I'm not Asian. I'm Middle Eastern. And I'm not too patient!

- Actually, if you look at an Atlas, you will see that Middle East is not a continent. Israel is… Asia.

- I'm sure you are not aware of the pain I'm capable of inflicting with this one dollar bill – Ziva jumped, trying to stop him from pressing the machine's button – You are not going to buy the last bar of diet chocolate!

- Going on a diet, Ziva?

- Struggling again? – sounded Gibbs' voice from behind them – You two are just like an old couple. Arguing over a candy bar…

- Kinda like you and the Director, Bo… ouch! I guess I shouldn't have said that – DiNozzo muttered, rubbing his head for the third time that day.

– Where's Probie, DiNozzo?

- Probieing around, probably.

- Let me guess. He's working on those reports while you two are having a break.

- Well…

- Reports on my desk by the end of the shift.

- Sure, Boss.

Gibbs proceeded on his interrupted path to the bullpen. The moment he was out of sight, Ziva turned back to Tony – Well, where were we… DiNozzo, look!

- What?

- He took our chocolate bar.

- No...! – Tony whirled around and slid his hand through the machine's wicket – He did! With my money! But I was just here, I should have seen him…

- But you did not.

- Neither did you. The Super-Mossad Agent let something pass right under her nose.

- Oh, shut up, DiNozzo. I still have that dollar bill, and I'm not afraid to use it.

Gibbs sat behind his desk, finished his chocolate bar and tossed the wrapper into the trashcan. He leaned back, musing what made DiNozzo and Ziva so fond of those sugar-free things.

- McGee?

- Yes, Boss?

- Abby needs you down there with her. Something about that new thing you made for her computer.

- Right, I'm just wrapping this up.

Gibbs signed some paperwork before leaving the bullpen again – I'll be upstairs in MTAC – he looked around for the rest of his team – Where's DiNozzo, Ziva?

- Privy – she answered, going back to her desk.

- You two make sure he finishes his report, I'm tired of hearing the Director complain that this team is always the last to deliver the paperwork.

- I'm here! – Tony appeared from the corridor – A guy can't take a damn leak in peace in this place…

Gibbs left his team arguing, as usual, and went up the stairs. The retinal scan that opened the doors of MTAC left him blinking. All that technology stuff was for McGee, not him.

The room was full, he could see that even in the usual darkness. Apart from the technicians, there were many men in sharp, expensive suits that practically screamed Politics sitting in front of the screen. They seemed to be watching a live transmission of some operation in the desert. A squad of marines was charging at some hidden place in the mountains. Probably Afghanistan, judging by the landscape.

He turned around and left. Today he really wasn't in the mood for politicians and anti-terrorism action overseas. His desk, full of paperwork as it was, looked much more attractive than a bunch of leeches wanting to shake his hand, give him their spiel, and trying to hit on Jenny just because she was the only female Director, so she was sure to be a whore.

Luckily, his team had shut up and were working. He couldn't see McGee but he remembered that Abby had called him. And his report was already on top of his desk, signed and ready.

It had been a quiet day. Maybe too quiet, he thought, looking at his agents. They were behaving more like children than ever, and only field work could solve that.

- Desk duty, Jethro?

He looked up into the face of Ducky, holding a smoking tea cup. Earl Grey with milk, he'd bet.

- Too quiet in the Autopsy, Duck?

- Well, a marine with a heart failure, a Petty Officer killed by his own wife, looks like she confessed everything, and a Lieutenant who couldn't hold his liquor. Yes, not a busy day. And it looks the same here…

- Yeah, and it's already like a kindergarten – Gibbs nodded towards DiNozzo, who'd just finished building a paper plane and was aiming it at McGee. DiNozzo threw it even as they watched, and flew straight and true all the way to McGee's neck.

- Oh, the youth – Ducky chuckled.

- Damn it, Tony, that thing was sharp!

- Wounded, Tiny Tim?

- No, but annoyed as hell!

Ducky took a sip from his tea – That red mark is going to take about two days to fade away.

- Probie can live with that.

- I've heard, or rather, Abby told me that it looks like half of the Senate is here today.

- Yeah, all locked up in MTAC.

The Scottish doctor took a look at his watch – Well, Palmer's had time to clean the autopsy room, I should go back before he gets too idle…

- Ok. See you later.

Gibbs turned back to his computer. He missed the days when they just wrote a few things down on paper and signed below. It was some time before he could take his eyes off the screen again.

Eventually, the bullpen was full of the sound of a herd walking out of MTAC, on the upper floor. Gibbs sank in his chair, trying to avoid being seen by all the politicians. His team did likewise. None of them was known for being a good spokesperson, and there was certainly some public officer in that herd they'd all pissed off. Each.

- Done, Boss! – Tony exclaimed from his desk – Here's all my paperwork – a few seconds later, Gibbs heard something being dropped on his desk – And the last one to finish is… Zee-vah!

- That's not fair!

- So what?

- I've never been that good with words.

- Yeah, we all know you prefer… action.

- DiNozzo, help Ziva finish her report.

The look in Tony's face was priceless – Boss!

- Now, DiNozzo. And when you're finished, get the hell out of my sight. All of you.

- Boss, I've finished all my work long ago, can I help Ziva too? – McGee asked.

- I don't need you both!

- Go, McGee.

- C'mon Ziva, we can always help you to improve your English – Tony dragged his chair all the way to Ziva's desk. She muttered something in Hebrew, and both men wisely decided not to ask her for a translation.

Ten minutes later, her report was on top of the pile on Gibbs's desk.

- See ya, Boss – Tony said, taking his coat off the back of his chair.

He nodded at him, then at McGee and Ziva as they said their goodbyes. When they left, the bullpen was full of sudden, immediate peace. There weren't many people left, and of those few, most looked about to leave as well.

- Bye, my silver fox! - said Abby, appearing seemingly out of nowhere and heading towards the lift, clad in her high boots and mini skirt. - I got sad today when I didn't see anything from your team to process.

- Bye, Abby.

He waited a few more minutes until it got really quiet. He took the pile of reports with him and went up the stairs, straight to the Director's office. Cynthia was already in her coat and handbag, closing the drawers of her desk.

- Special Agent Gibbs… I was about to call you.

- Really? Why?

- The Director wants to see you in her office.

- At this hour? Is she still there? – he was certain that she was about to have dinner with some Senator.

- She is. And you can hand those reports to her personally – Cynthia added when she saw him dropping the reports in her already immaculate desk.

- Ok. Bye - he took the pile back, pushed the door and entered, leaving Cynthia to shut down her computer.

He was surprised by how dark the room was. All the lights but the desk lamp were switched off. Jenny was sitting behind her desk, as usual, but something caught his attention. She wasn't doing anything. He had never seen her like that. No report on her hands, plasma screen off, no files or documents lying open on the desk. Nothing. She was just sitting there, staring.

- Jethro.

- Did you call for me?

- You know I did.

- Jenny, is everything alright? – he sat across her desk, worried. She was pale, much paler than usual, with dark circles around her eyes that the make-up couldn't hide anymore. No wonder that in that week he had asked her directly if she was ill

- Yes, it is – her gaze finally broke off of some point over his right shoulder and focused on him.

- Doesn't look like it. Did any of those Hill Leeches do anything? I saw them around in the MTAC today.

- No. And I'm more than used to their flirting. It's what you get when you are the only woman around these parts and your Agency is lying at the bottom of the budget chain. Did you see the operation?

- Barely. I left as soon as I got in.

- We captured Ali Hasan. The one who blow up that Marines' Camp last week.

- I bet the audience clapped and went "Hurray".

- Almost.

- Are you sure you're ok? I'm getting worried…

- Stop that, Jethro.

He observed her again, silently. Stubborn woman. She was obviously not all right. He'd thought that, after that night in his basement, they'd regained their old familiarity. And he was convinced, all through the following week, that there still might be something between them. But less than a month ago, Jenny had begun to push him away again, almost aggressively. Their arguments were worse than ever. She actively blocked him from getting information and pulled rank almost every day. And she looked like she literally wanted to kill herself working. He suspected that last night had been the first in the week in which she actually slept at home.

And then he'd catch her looking at him, hiding behind the balustrade or in the darkness of the MTAC. And when he did, he could tell how hurt and overworked she was. How alone she was, up there, above the rest. Now, with her sitting across him, he could see it all, wandering through her vague green eyes. The silence was getting overwhelming.

- Jethro, you miss your family too much.

Gibbs looked up at her. Her eyes were still on his. His face hardened. Why bring that up now? And after she had pushed him away, destroying the confidence that had made him share his family with her? She had no right to touch that subject now.

- Will you bring them back, Jenny? – he answered rudely.

- No. I will give you another child.

The words made him gasp. He stared at her, incredulous, astonished. How… there was that night in his basement, but they had barely touched each other, there was no way she could…

- What is going on here, Jenny?

- We are both adults, Jethro. Your child was taken away and it still haunts you. I can't ease your pain, but I can give you another child to bring you joy.

He still didn't believe she was actually saying those things – So… you are proposing that… we have a baby… together…?

- Yes.

- Have you gone insane? – he almost spat.

- No. Tell me a reason why we can't.

- Just one? I can tell you more than a dozen, the first one being that what we had ended nine years ago!

- I'm not asking you to marry me. Actually, I'm not asking you to have anything to do with me besides the conception.

- Oh I see. Should I take you right now, here on your desk?

- Jethro…

- Yeah, better not ask. You are not sane tonight, Jennifer Sheppard – he rose abruptly from his chair, but Jenny beat him to the door.

- Don't leave – she was blocking the door with her body.

- Get out of my way.

- Why are you so upset?

- You have to ask?

- All I did was propose. All you have to do is take it or leave it.

- I'm leaving it, isn't it obvious?

- Jethro, wait. I just want to help you.

- Help me? What kind of help is this?

- Sit down. We should talk.

- I don't want to talk, I want to go away.

- Sit down, Jethro. Give me a chance. We won't get anywhere if you're like this.

- Where do you want to get, Jen?

- Sit down – she said for the third time. His infuriated look pierced her, and for some time he didn't move. Eventually, Jenny moved away from the door. Her hand found the doorknob and she opened it.

He pulled it back, slamming the door shut – Very well. Explain yourself, Jennifer.

She nodded and walked away from the door. Instead of sitting behind her desk again, she went to the drinks cabinet and poured two glasses.

- Here – she put his glass in front of him and walked around the large desk, sitting across him. Now certain he wasn't going to snap at her again, she took a small sip, just to wet her dry mouth.

- You were happy once, Jethro. I know that, I've seen that. But now you are just a secluded, gloomy man, with nothing but a boat and old memories. I think I can bring happiness back into your life.

- What if I just want to stay like this?

- You can, of course. But you'll end up drowning in grief.

- You're so sure you know me deeply, aren't you?

- You know I do.

He drank most of his glass but remained in silence for some time – So, this is it? This is your proposal?

- Yes.

- Are you aware of what you're saying?

- I am.

- I don't think you are. You aren't aware of the responsibility. You have no clue what it means to raise a child. This is just your latest obsession.

- It isn't, Jethro. Trust me.

- Pick another man. I'm out.

- Do you have to be this stubborn? I don't want anyone else. I'm doing this for you, Jethro. I'm doing this so you can have someone to love again.

- If you weren't like this, Jenny, I'd already have all that. Without having to bring up an innocent child. If you weren't this crazy bitch that throws herself at my feet one day and pushes me away on the next, then maybe we _could_ have a steady relationship.

- Until the day you found out that I wasn't Shannon and dumped me like you dumped your last three wives!

- I didn't dump you, did I? I stayed by your side longer than some of my marriages. You were the one who left. Because of the job. If you're lonely now, live with it. A child won't solve your problems.

Jenny was almost as infuriated as him now – Fine. Throw everything on my shoulder. It's easy, isn't it? It makes you feel like you're in control and doesn't let you see I'm just trying to help.

- Do you really believe it would help? – his voice sounded somewhat less harsh.

- I do, Jethro. I do. I've known it since the day you showed me the photos of your family. Give yourself another chance.

- This doesn't look like the proper way to do it.

- Forgot how it looks. I'm here, offering myself to you. Do you know how hard this is for me? To offer you my body and soul and then listen to one insult after another?

- And you think it's easy for me to have you sleeping under my arms one night and yelling at me the week after?

Her eyes wandered away – I know… I gave you a hard time, but my life's been… oh, forget it, you don't care about apologies. They're all weakness and zero sincerity for you. It's all nearly sorted out, you can be sure.

- What if I'm not? What if I accept this crazy proposal of yours and in six months time you change your mind and decide to take full custody of the child and don't let me see him? Or her?

- Jethro, I would never do that!

- How can I be sure?

- I thought you trusted me.

- I do. But this is just… too much. Too much to bear.

Jenny nodded silently. She'd said all she had to say. Unfortunately, there was nothing else she could do. It was his decision now.

- Jenny, I can't do this. I'm sorry.

- Fine.

- You sound hurt.

- I'm not.

- I can't do it like this. Call me old fashioned if you like, but I can't just have sex with you and quietly wait for nine months. There'd have to be more.

- What are you suggesting?

- Give ourselves another try. Fine, we don't have to look like teenagers pumped full of hormones walking around the building in each other's arms. That'd bring you severe problems with your image, anyway. No living together either, we both know that could ruin everything. Just try for the baby and live the experience together. And if everything else failed… always be there for him. No hate, no resentment. This is the only way I can do it.

Jenny listened to him carefully. She wasn't expecting that. And now she didn't know exactly what to say. In theory, it sounded great, but she had her doubts. Not to mention that that way would just make things much worse for her in the future… But now it was her only chance.

- Very well then. But Jethro… this way will require some… changes for us both. I hope you are aware of that.

- I am. Jenny?

- What?

- Why this all of a sudden?

Her hands tensed almost imperceptibly. That was the answer she couldn't give him. The only answer. But she could reply without telling it all.

- I saw how the McMillian case left you. I saw what you are not capable of telling anyone, not even yourself. And when you opened yourself to me and showed me your family… I made a decision.

He looked up, a question in his eyes – Have you been planning this all this time?

- Yes. More or less. I even stopped taking the birth control pill.

That surprised Gibbs even more – Jenny, this is…

- No need to say anything.

- But there is still one thing that bothers me… You never had any kids, and I'm sure it wasn't lack of men. It was because of your job. So why throw everything to the wind now that you are the Director? Three years ago you refused my advances, and now…

- I'm no longer the freshly-appointed Director. My position is established. I'm aware I'm going to face some small trouble, but nothing I can't solve or care about.

Gibbs' mind was racing so hard his head was throbbing. He wanted her to be as sure as she looked, but he still didn't believe that they were actually having that conversation.

- It's late – he said at last – And you look exhausted. And I don't know about you but after all this, I need to rest my head. I'm taking you home.

- No, better not.

- Why not?

- You need to be alone, I can tell that. I'm going to call my car. You can go home straight and… think.

- I don't know…

- I'm safe with them, Jethro.

- You are better with me.

Jenny rose from her chair – I would, probably. But there's no threat waiting for me on my way home, you know that. Rest, Jethro.

- But I'm going to escort you to your car.

- I'm ok with that.

He rose from his chair as well, but instead of going towards the door, he went around the desk and blocked her way.

- Jen?

- Yes?

- If we're really going to do all this, I want something from you – he grabbed her arm, brought her to him and pressed his lips against hers.

The moment he touched her, Jenny realised how hard everything was going to be for her. A small tear formed at the corner of her eye, but years of federal agent training stopped it before it managed to roll down. Knowing that she needed to forget all the rest and just let go, she kissed him back with fervour.

_My happiness level rises every time I get a review _


	9. Plans and Preparations

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, once more. They are always welcome. This chapter has taken a little more to be betaread because boyfriend is starting his working career and every day has less time. Darling, it was so much fun, reading and correcting this at your side while we were at Starbuscks. I truly appreciate that you with your busy schedule, still get some time to encourage my writings. Love you so much._

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He dragged his feet along the basement stairs. What had begun as a quiet day had left him even more tired than a military operation. He found his bottle of bourbon and poured some in the first glass he saw.

The alcohol from the drink burned his dry lips. Not caring, he downed the whole thing almost at once. The last thing he wanted now was to get drunk, but he desperately needed the alcohol. He would just be careful not to overdo it.

His mind was still racing and he looked for a piece of sandpaper. He needed something to keep his hands busy, since his head was giving him a hard time. It was true that he was done with the sanding in the boat's main exterior, but there were probably some wood grains in the rudder that needed his attention before the primer coat. And he didn't care if there weren't.

He found some sandpaper and lay down under the vessel. The light wasn't the best and he had to go get a small lamp to help him see. But while his hands sanded away, his mind was elsewhere entirely. It was at the Director's Office, back at NCIS, where he and Jenny were kissing. Eagerly. Hard.

A child. She was out of her mind. That had to be it. And so was he, to agree to such a thing. Not that he had formally agreed, he wasn't sure that he had actually, at any point, said yes to her madness. However, he knew that there was no turning back now.

He couldn't help but remember the day Shannon had told him he was going to be a father. It had been completely different. Much more… normal. It was unexpected, and he'd been hit with a mixture of happiness and fear, of joy and inadequacy. Being a marine on active duty meant he had missed a great part of her pregnancy. But the moment he came home, she would be there to fill him in on everything. The first kick, the latest doctor appointment, the latest present she had received, which usually turned out to be some miniature clothing that made him worry about how tiny babies are.

And now, more than twenty years later, he was going through the same thing. Not with the serene, light-hearted Shannon but with the fierce, passionate Jenny. And he was over twenty years older.

There was something else, something he hadn't told Jenny because he knew she wasn't going to like it. She wasn't exactly at the best age to have her first child. He was aware that things had changed a lot in the last decade but it still made him worry. Jenny took pride in not showing her age, but he had been her boss and her partner, and he knew perfectly well that she was in her early forties. It made him fear for both mother and baby. The wisest thing to do was probably to ask Ducky about it, but he knew it was out of the question. The good doctor would immediately think his old friends had both gone insane. Or worse.

He slid out from under the boat. More bourbon, that's what he needed. He drank the second glass as quickly as he had drunk the first. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Even after two shots of bourbon, he could still feel the taste of her warm lips.

He had escorted her back to her car and she had kissed him again. She had kissed him while they were waiting for the lift, she had kissed him inside the lift itself and she had kissed him before leaving him and showing herself to the security detail and driver. And of course he had always kissed back. It felt so long since last time they had been that way.

He was still hurt. It had taken him all these years to admit it. He was still hurt by her departure; by the shameful way she chose to get rid of him. He had been so hurt that he had thrown himself into a silly marriage with Stephanie. The poor woman didn't deserve it, really. He couldn't even begin to understand how hard must have been, feeling like someone's replacement. And he had done it to all his ex-wives.

A month ago, Jenny had confided how hurt she had been because he had never told her about his family. What she didn't know was that he had meant to tell her before, in Europe. Twice, when they were lying in bed, entwined in each other, he had raised his hand, caressed her flushed face and taken a deep breath. Twice he had failed to tell her about the worst tragedy of his life.

She was the one who screwed up what they had, but he was aware, deep inside, that he was also to blame for letting her go so easily. He was proud and he was hurt. But now he wouldn't let anything ruin them again. They were older, though probably not as wiser as they liked to think. It was about time for them both to settle down. Of course they would never get the typical suburban house, their jobs wouldn't allow for a normal life, but he was ready to fight for all he could get.

And so, without even noticing, absorbed as he was in his daydreams of a different life, Jehtro Gibbs drifted into sleep underneath his boat.

* * *

Her house felt colder than ever. She had always loved the grandeur of her Georgetown mansion, but that night it was overwhelming. Cold. Lonely.

Naomi had certainly left her something to eat in the fridge, but she wasn't hungry. Exhausted, she went up the stairs. She turned on the lights in her room, which at least made the house feel a little warmer. She changed into her nightgown as quickly as her tired body would allow, not even caring where she threw the pieces of her expensive suit. Her equally expensive stiletto heels were kicked unceremoniously into a distant corner of the room.

She shivered under the cold embrace of the sheets, remembering that not even an hour ago she had been in his warm arms. And she knew then that she didn't want to leave those arms, ever again.

For nine years she had asked herself whether she'd made the right choice, but of course the answer was constantly changing. In the daytime, in the field, undercover or otherwise, she felt that she had been born for that. For being an agent. The best agent. But at night, or when she was, for some reason on another, feeling down, she regretted every damned word she had written in that stupid letter. It was then that the loneliness would hit her, as strongly as a physical blow.

During the first year, she had tried almost everything to get over him. She got drunk off-duty, just to forget his face and sleep with the first man she laid her eyes on. It never worked. Every time the alcohol would take her beyond her senses she would see his face, staring back at her. Every time she grasped a man's flesh in pleasure she had to bite on her tongue, which wanted to scream his name aloud.

After a while she had to face she was only hurting herself even more. She had chosen her work over him and she had to live with it. And, after a monumental effort, she learnt how to do just that. Repressed love. It calmed her down and even helped her as an agent. Her judgment got better. So did her handling of suspects and victims.

Promotions continued to come, until she climbed the last step and was invited for the position of the Director. And then she knew she had everything. Everything her ambition had dreamed of. But there is no such thing as perfection, and fate threw her its greatest challenge: that was when Jethro came back into her life.

She couldn't sleep. Rolling in her bed, she reached for the bedside lamp. The sudden light made her blink. When her eyes got used to it, she glanced over at the alarm clock. 0200. Not good for someone who had to be up by 0500 and at work by 0700. She would look dreadful in the morning, which would mean layers of make-up. Trying to get some sleep, she switched off the light and rolled over.

* * *

Gibbs was almost praying for a case. His team was being as childish as the day before, and he wasn't in the mood to put up with it. Actually, after that conversation the previous night, he wasn't in the mood for much of anything. He had hoped to arrive before Jenny, but he was out of luck. She was so early, in fact, that if he hadn't escorted her to her car last night, he would have thought she had slept in her office. Even so, the first thing he did when he arrived was to pay her a visit. Cynthia, who probably had also turned into a morning person, told him that the Director had just left for a meeting with SecNav at the MTAC and didn't want to be interrupted. And so far no one had left MTAC yet. He should know. He'd been looking up all morning.

- Boss?

- What now, McGee?

- Did you check your e-mail? Silly question, I know… - he added after received the famous Gibbs glare.

- What about the e-mail?

McGee turned his screen towards him – Another one of those lectures… tomorrow.

- What about?

- Safety And Security At Work.

- Did anyone tell them that this is national security agency? We're _supposed_ to deal with danger.

- Er, Boss… not that kind of security. It's more like… how to use fire extinguishers and organise ourselves in case of evacuation…

- Oh, gimme a break! We went last year! – Tony blurted from his desk.

- It's annual – McGee remarked.

- Why? The extinguisher's the same as last year! Boss, can't we wriggle out of it?

- Only if we have a case. You know how it works, DiNozzo.

- We can murder Ziva. Then we'd have a case.

- You'd be the one to show up dead – Ziva said without looking up from her paperwork.

- Boss, can't you ask the Director? We all fell asleep last year! Even she was daydreaming, I could tell that.

Gibbs wondered what Jenny could have been daydreaming about, but knowing her, it could have been anything since her last meeting with SecNav to what was she going to have for lunch. But at least the lecture gave him an excuse to go to her office. Not that he actually needed one, but it was handy.

The phone on his desk rang. After listening to a few words from the other side of the line, he hung up – Dead naval sergeant found floating in the Potomac. Gear up.

* * *

- Cynthia?

Her assistant took her eyes off the screen – Yes, madam?

- How's my schedule for tomorrow? From what I've seen, you haven't included the lecture yet.

- I know, it's been… difficult. You have the meeting with the Secretary of the Department of Defence and then lunch with Senator Holeman and be back at time to coordinate an operation at the MTAC and…

- Cynthia, I've read my own schedule – just hearing it made her even more tired.

- Oh, of course, I'm sorry, Director, but I just don't know who am I going to cut out so you can attend the lecture… er, with all due respect madam, do you really need to attend it?

- If I don't, everyone else will flee after the first five minutes.

- I see… well, I think…

- Tell Senator Holeman that we are going to have lunch next Monday – she knew that she couldn't postpone him much longer, but having lunch with a man who just liked to talk about himself wasn't really appealing.

- Very well. So, the seminar begins at 1400, and you'll have to be at MTAC at 1600.

- Perfect. Call the senator, then.

Cynthia was reaching for the phone when she was interrupted.

- And Cynthia…

- Yes, Director?

- Has Agent Gibbs' team returned yet?

- They have, but I think they went out again. Would you like me to contact them?

- No, no. That's all – Jenny came back into the office, closing the door behind her. Instead of sitting back at her desk, she went over to the window. She needed to stretch her legs after an afternoon spent sitting behind a desk and a morning stuck in MTAC.

The lecture was really going to be boring, she knew that as well as everyone else in the agency. The only thing that had kept her from falling asleep last year was her image as the Director. Well, that and the fact that Jethro was sitting close to her, and she couldn't help remembering their time together.

Jethro… she hadn't seen him at all yet. After a restless night, she ended up arriving at work at that ungodly hour when the only people around were the cleaning staff and her security detail. But instead of having some time to talk to him between her schedules, SecNav had chosen that morning to nag her about some petty issues until it was lunchtime and Jethro was out in the field.

Sighing, she returned to her desk. If she wanted to do not leave the building past decent hours, she definitely should go back to work.

* * *

The sound of a turning doorknob distracted her from the documents she was reading. It was getting late, judging by how dark it had gotten outside. Dropping the documents on the desk, she took off her spectacles and looked at her long awaited visitor.

- Good evening, Jethro. Long day?

- You bet.

- I have what you need right here – she rose towards her drinks cabinet but he caught her before she even got there.

- I'm sure you do – he pulled her towards him and kissed her gently. Much more gently than she had expected.

- Now you have to choose. Bourbon or kiss – she teased him.

- Bourbon. From your lips.

- Stop. We need to talk.

- I know. Sit down, I'll pour.

- First of all, – she returned to her seat and took the glass he gave her – how's the case?

- Solved. Do you have any idea how much the Potomac stinks? Palmer slipped while he was helping Ducky get the body out of the water and dived into loads of garbage. We all had to help him get out of there. DiNozzo and McGee were particularly helpful, especially when they slipped in the exact same place, into the exact same garbage. Ducky, Ziva and myself all had to push them into the truck, and we took the car. We just couldn't bear that smell. Of course we shoved them into the showers as soon as we got here. But anyway, about the case; nothing too complex. Our Sergeant wanted his cocaine fix, had no money, picked a fight with his dealer and ended up floating in the river with three stabs. We got the dealer and his buddies. Metro Police should be picking them tomorrow.

- I see. Nice work then.

- Easy. They were only tough when they were up against stupid teenagers and junkies. What about your day?

- Not very productive. SecNav decided to throw all his frustrations upon me. But let's forget them all.

- What do you want to talk about?

- Jethro, I've been counting back. My last menstruation was two weeks ago, and it was the first one after I stopped taking the pill, so this week I enter my fertile period. We should arrange things for the conception.

- What? This soon?

- Yes. My place or yours?

- Jenny, let me take a breath. Why the rush?

- It's no rush, I simply don't want to wait another month.

- Look, I'm still trying to convince myself I'm going along with your crazy idea, and now you're telling me we have to do it already? I was hoping for some time for ourselves, to get reacquainted...

- I'm not saying I'm going to get pregnant this month, that's not the way it works. It can happen how, or it can take months. So we have to start trying, and we shouldn't waste any chances.

- Fine, let's do it your way.

- Tomorrow then. It's Friday, which means we can wake up late in the morning. That is, unless your team gets a case or my mobile phone starts ranging like crazy.

- You know how it is. But let's hope it doesn't happen. But hang on… we are going to try tomorrow and then wait for a month?

- No, Jethro. But in these days I'm more likely to conceive. So, should I pay you a visit or will you be coming at my house after work?

- I don't know… whatever you think is best.

- Then come to my place, if you don't mind. One night in your basement was more than enough.

- I have a bed, you know. But yes, yours is cosier. But…

- What?

- Your detail is going to see me coming in, and not getting out for hours later.

- I don't care about my detail.

- You cared a month ago.

- I don't anymore.

- Fine, no need to get edgy.

- I'm not edgy. So, I'll try hard not to leave too late. Let's pray we don't get a sudden crisis. Please try to do the same. I'll get something for dinner, so there's no need to bring take-away.

- You've got it all worked out. Ok then, I'll… show up right after work - her minute planning was almost exasperating.

- Very well then. See you tomorrow, Jethro.

This was turning too formal for his taste – What a lame goodbye, Jenny…

She looked at him, surprised at first, but then she nodded. She got up from her chair and went towards him. He got up as well. Her hands rested on his chest in a tender embrace. Relieved, he held her tight, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead – That's better.

- I suppose I'm just not used to us being… what are we, anyway? Lovers, again?

- Call it whatever you like, I don't really care about names.

- Neither do I – she kissed him lightly on the lips – See you tomorrow.

- Now that's much better.

_If you want to make this author here happy, just press the review button ;) _


	10. Lectures and Lovers I

_A/N: Ok, work and study prevented me for uploading sooner, but don't get worried. Instead of just one chapter, I'm uploading two, so no cliff hangers. Again and forever, thank you darling for the beta-reading. Love so much._

_A/N 2: To __Tabitha of MoonAurora__, thank you for the correction, I'll change everything as soon as possible._

* * *

Life had given Abigail Sciuto many things to be proud of. She was, above all, proud of her work as a forensic scientist; she was proud of her undeniable skill in the bowling alley; and she was proud of her gothic look. And the latter was being severely threatened.

Annoyed by the constant yanking, she turned in her chair - Who is trying to pull out my ponytails? Tony!?

- I wasn't trying to pull them out, just trying to get them out of my sight. Come on, Abby, it's like I have a palm tree sitting in front of me…

- Palm tree?! That's it, Anthony DiNozzo! I'm going to murder you and leave no trace behind! And you know I'm the only one who can do it.

- Exactly. You would be caught in a minute. No cigarette ashes near the body, no handkerchief with embroidered initials and most suspicious of all, no DNA under the victim's fingernails. That leads us to… Abigail!

- Very funny, Tony…

- Peace, my friends, peace – Ducky said from his seat in the same row.

- Why do you have to be here at all, Ducky? – Tony asked. He hadn't even noticed the doctor's presence.

- The seminar is for the entire building. Everyone has to be here.

- Unfortunately.

- Yeah, my babies are already missing me… - Abby moaned.

- It hasn't begun yet? Pity, I thought I was already late… – said Ziva, who had appeared panting a little and took the empty seat near Tony.

- No, it's only at 1400. Where's Probie? – Tony leaned a bit, looking over the other rows – What, he found a way to escape and didn't tell us?

- I'm here – McGee's voice sounded from behind – Actually, I was one of the first people to get here.

- I'm sure you were. So, the only one missing is the Boss. He did find a way to escape… wait, don't tell me he's just behind me? – Tony turned around slowly, and was relieved not to see any sign of Gibbs.

A blow to his shoulder made him turn again – No, I'm beside you this time, DiNozzo.

- Boss! No case calling for our attention?

- No.

Tony put his hands together almost like a prayer – Please, no need to get anyone murdered, but what about… a robbery? A big, notorious robbery. Naval equipment, maybe, or…

- Shut up – another blow to his other shoulder, this time coming from Ziva – The Director has arrived and I doubt you want her to hear you wishing for crimes.

- I doubt she's going to sit here, almost in the last row… Good afternoon, madam – Tony forced his brightest smile out of himself when Jenny sat at Gibbs' side. Ziva could barely hold her laughter.

- Agent DiNozzo, David – Jenny nodded.

- What, are they in armistice now? – Tony whispered to Ziva, who shrugged in reply.

Gibbs smirked, eavesdropping on his agents. Next week the agency would certainly get flooded with bets about how close he and the Director really were. DiNozzo would be behind most of it, of course. Thankfully, he didn't know how close they were about to get.

- Jethro, stop looking at me and look at the dais – Jenny muttered without even moving her eyes.

Reluctantly, he did as she asked. A short, skinny man was climbing onto the dais. After dropping a large pile of paper on the pulpit, he introduced himself as the Safety Inspector whose name Gibbs didn't even understand. Judging by the look of the man, it was going to be even more boring than last year. And he had armed himself with slides.

After as long as ten minutes he had completely lost his audience. Even McGee or Ducky often found themselves staring at some random point in the wall, rather than at the projected slides. At least it was rather discrete; many others in the room were secretly playing games on their mobile phones, or looking about to fall asleep.

Despite what she had told him, Gibbs was thinking that looking at the woman next to him was much more interesting than listening to the Safety Inspector stumble over his discourse. Besides, he hadn't had much chance to do it over the last three years, since half the time they had been arguing and the other half working. He made a mental note to tell her, later that night, how beautiful he thought she was. He wasn't even sure if he had ever told her that. About time to correct some old mistakes.

He was sorry to see that the subtle lines of her face had become harder, more pronounced. Ten years ago she had looked lighter, brighter. Her eyes still had that glow, they were also sharper. For most people, comparing the young and spontaneous agent that had been at his side in Europe with the skilled and conscious Director sitting by his side was an impossible task. But for a few, like Ducky and himself, that woman was still there.

- Penny for your thoughts – he heard her muttering.

- In a word, you.

She smiled, almost imperceptibly. Like the previous year, she hadn't been paying much attention to the Safety Inspector. But now her daydreams could focus in the present, and not in the past. She went over her preparations, ensuring that everything back at home was ready for their night together, and then forced herself to focus on the lecture. The current slide was showing something that looked like the building's blueprints, with the emergency exits marked in bright red.

- Free at last! – Tony muttered half an hour later, when the Inspector left.

- Actually, it was shorter than last year.

- If you said so, McGeek. The only thing I know is that I need a coffee to wake me up before I go back to my desk.

- I'll go with you – Ziva rose hastily from her chair.

- I want a coffee too – McGee began to follow them.

- Is anyone thinking about working at all?

- Boss, it's just coffee. We'll be back in a minute.

- Not a second more, DiNozzo.

- The nearest coffee shop is at least three minutes away – Jenny said at his side after his team left.

- I know. I'm being condescending. After this lecture, they can have their fresh air… We should do the same.

- You know I can't. By the way, I should be at MTAC by now – she rose, looking for Cynthia in a room now full of people leaving, standing up, chatting. Her assistant was nowhere to be seen.

- She's probably waiting for you at MTAC, like a faithful dog – Gibbs said.

- I hope so. Jethro, I really have to go.

- I'll go with you.

She smiled – Don't you have work to do?

- Yes, but I don't have a schedule as tight as yours. And I'm also entitled to a couple free minutes after a boring lecture.

They both headed to the door – It wasn't that boring – Jenny remarked.

- Yes, Director. Like you weren't miles away, just like we all were. You just hide it better.

She pressed the lift's button – It's part of my job – The doors opened. Gibbs, who was trying to improve his behaviour, let her go in first. She selected MTAC's floor.

The moment the doors closed, the lift jerked and she was shoved against the handrails. The lights went out.

- One of these days you're going to break down the lift – she moaned at his ear.

His finger left the emergency button and joined his other hand in caressing her body – And when that day arrives, are you going to bill me?

- You certainly deserve it – the way his body pressed against hers was making her breathe heavily.

- Shut up, Jen – he kissed her demandingly, his hands travelling from her shoulders and face to the borders of her breasts. She placed her hands on his back and pulled him even closer.

- Someone can't hold on until tonight – she muttered mischievously when their lips parted.

His right hand cupped one of her breasts, making her gasp – This is just a little preview – he answered. He grinned when he saw the effect he was having on her.

- Oh, really? – her grin was as wide as his and the back of her hand brushed his groin very lightly. His reaction was immediate - And now, who's having a hard time holding on?

He was panting as heavily as she was – I see you're still a teaser.

- So are you – she placed her other hand on the back of his head, bringing his lips back to hers.

- There's just one problem… - he breathed between the kiss.

- What?

- I have to deliver you at MTAC. Presentable – without leaving her, he pressed the emergency button again, making the lift come to life.

- Jethro! – she shoved him away and tried to compose her clothes and hair before the doors opened. She was still combing her hair with her fingers when they stopped at the last floor. Luckily, there was no one there.

- Try not to pant so much – she heard him whisper as they left.

- Bastard – she replied on the same volume, heading towards MTAC, where Cynthia was already expecting her.

- Director.

She turned – What now, Agent Gibbs?

He approached her – With your permission, I would like to leave earlier today.

She noticed that he was still grinning, although much more discretely – No problem. Just finish your report on yesterday's case.

- Don't worry. It will be on your desk before the end of the shift.

She nodded and turned away. Gibbs got inside the lift again and went down to the bullpen. His team had just arrived, judging by the coats tossed onto the chairs' backs and the smoky coffee cups on top of their desks.

With a quick glance at his watch, he sat at his desk. He tried to concentrate on the report that he had to write, making an abnormal effort to put Jenny Sheppard out of his mind.

* * *

- Director, Commander Campbell is on the line.

Jenny adjusted her headset and nodded towards the technicians' table. The coloured bars on the screen were being replaced by a man wearing a uniform and a stern expression.

- Director Sheppard.

- Commander. Is everything ready?

- On your orders, madam.

- Ok. Satellite images then.

Suddenly, the Commander was sharing the screen with a detailed picture of the Golf of Aden. The position of every team and ship was carefully marked, looking like a complex web of red dots.

One of the technicians handed her a file. She opened it and began to read.

- Sigma Team.

A voice responded through thick interference – Ready and waiting orders, madam.

- Zeta Team.

Another voice sounded through the interference – Ready and waiting orders, madam.

She went through all the teams. After checking on everyone, she closed the file. Trying not to be noticed, she darted a glance at the time flashing on the bottom-right of the screen. She truly wished that the operation would not take long.

* * *

Gibbs looked over his desk again, checking that he'd taken care of every pertinent document. Glad that he had, he took another look at the watch.

- Long weekend for everyone, guys. Go home, there's nothing more for us to do.

The entire team was looking at him, almost shocked.

- But… we already left early once last month – Ziva remarked.

- This isn't the Mossad, Ziva. You can go home early when there's nothing to do.

- No complains here, Boss – Tony was already buttoning up his coat, followed closely by McGee, who was shutting down computers as fast as he could.

- Have a good weekend. Try not to get in trouble, I need you all in one piece come Monday.

- Sure. Bye, Boss – McGee replied, while Tony just waved and Ziva nodded. In a minute, they were all disappearing inside the lift.

He gave them a couple of minutes, enough to ensure that they were already inside their cars and driving home. Grabbing his coat, badge and gun, he went over to the lift himself.

Knowing there was still plenty of time, he drove home. Inside, he went up to his room, opened his wardrobe, and stood still, uncertain. He, who never gave a damn about what to wear.

Taking some informal jeans and a black shirt he had forgotten that he owned, he went to the bathroom. A warm shower would liven him up and help him relax, something he felt he sorely needed. He still almost hoped that Jenny would tell him she had thought better of it and decided to drop this "baby" business entirely. But then, he knew how determined she was. It wasn't going to happen.

The warm water massaged his head, shoulders and back, and helped him clear his mind. After a while, he turned it off and got out the bathtub. Dressing quickly, he combed his hair and, for the first time in years, checked his appearance on the small mirror above the sink.

It was still too early. The best way to pass the time would be to go downstairs, work on the boat... but he quickly dismissed the idea. It would get him all covered in sawdust.

Not knowing how else to pass the time, he went back to the car. This time drove to her house without breaking the speed limit and parked two houses away, so she couldn't see him from out of her windows. Her security detail should be hidden somewhere, he wasn't seeing any sign of them. Since they certainly knew his car, they were probably wondering what he was doing there at all.

He switched on the radio, hoping it was still working after months of disuse. Luckily, it was, and the car was suddenly full of silly pop music. He tuned into some other random station, and got only more pop music. It would be hard to find anything else, apparently. He wondered if Kelly would like that meaningless music teenagers wrote nowadays. In another station, someone was reading out the news, but he wasn't in the mood for that tonight. Finally, he found something that didn't sound like pop music. Some sort of _blues _or _soul_. Either way, he liked it much better. He tapped his fingers lazily on the steering wheel and heard the song through. And the next one, and the one after that. The commercials were annoying but mercifully short, followed by more music.

He hadn't taken his eyes from the house, and as he watched a light came on in the ground floor, where he knew the kitchen to be. That was good. The house had been dark for so long he had started to worry Jenny might still be stuck in MTAC. Of course it could be Noemi, but he doubted she wouldn't have dismissed her housekeeper earlier. Not today.

A glance at the car's digital watch told him it was as good a time as any. He got out of the car and walked the small distance to her porch. He considered using her spare key, like he had many times before, but tonight it probably wouldn't be very polite. So he knocked, instead.

_Don't forget, chapter eleven is already posted ;)_


	11. Lectures and Lovers II

_A/N: As I said, no cliff hanger._

* * *

The clank of her heels in the stone floor was heard immediately. The door unlocked and Jenny appeared in the doorframe. The sight of her made him swallow.

- Good evening, Jethro.

- Good evening. You didn't tell me there was a dressing code – he couldn't help but stare her up and down. She was wearing a black cocktail dress that, in his opinion, fitted her perfectly. The cleavage was just the right measure and the knee-length was showing the right amount of leg. The shoulders were bare save for two thick straps that tied in the back of her neck. Very classy, but tantalising.

- That's because there isn't one. And you're looking very handsome, don't worry. New shirt?

- No. Found it tossed around in my wardrobe.

She laughed and took a step back – Come in.

- You look stunning – he entered, closing the door. It was warm inside.

She smiled in response – Dinner is already in the oven. Drink?

- Yes, thanks.

- Come to the study then.

He followed her inside. The fire was blazing, filling the room with its tenuous orange light. Jenny lit the lamp on her desk before turning to the drinks cabinet. She poured one glass and handed it to him.

- Here you go - he took the glass and sipped at it.

She was about to pour herself some bourbon when he took the bottle from her hand.

- You shouldn't.

- What do you mean?

- You shouldn't drink. You may end up pregnant tonight.

- Jethro, I'm not pregnant yet. Give me my bottle back.

- No.

- Don't be stubborn.

- You're the one being stubborn here – he ignored her irritation and put the bottle back in its place, in the drinks cabinet. Then he moved closer to her – No need to stare at me like that, Director, we're not at work – he lifted a hand to her face and caressed it. She began to relax.

- Are you going to boss me around the entire nine months?

- No. I just want what's best for you and the child. I think we should start being careful.

- So you're going to boss me around. You don't have to, I'll be careful.

- Jenny?

- Yes?

He nodded to her settee – Sit down. There's something I'd like to talk about.

She did as he asked, but her expression had hardened – What now, Jethro? You don't want to do it anymore? Is that it?

- No, it's not that. I'm just worried. It's just… - he sat by her side - Jen, this is going to be your first child, and…

- It's my age, isn't it, Jethro?

- Don't get me wrong, you're not old, just…

- Look, don't worry so much. Everything is fine, I've talked to my doctor.

- Did you?

- Sure.

- I'm glad you did. Now, come here – he pulled her gently by her shoulders until she was lying on the settee with her head resting in his lap – It's been what… nine years since the last time we were together on this couch?

- More or less – her hand found his and entwined.

- Let's make up for lost time.

- That sounds lovely – her other hand went up his chest, found his neck, pulled him down for a kiss. He kissed back eagerly, rolling over as he did until he was lying on top of her. He kissed deeper while one of his hands ventured down, until it grasped her thigh.

Her impatient hands were travelling up his back and tangling into his hair. Their lips parted and she arched her body as he kissed a path from her chin and over her throat, to the cleft between her breasts. She was moaning in pleasure when he suddenly stopped and looked her right in the eyes.

- I've missed you, Jen.

Her grin turned into a tender smile – I've missed you too.

- Don't ever run away.

She disentangled herself from under him and sat up, forcing him to do the same – I don't want to.

He smiled, but a sigh escaped from his lips - Let's try not to ruin anything. I'm afraid I might, sooner or later.

- I'm not an easy person either, Jethro.

His fingers caressed her arm, moved up to her shoulder. She leaned her head to his touch, not taking her eyes off him.

- It was hard today. Trying to concentrate on that lecture with you by my side.

- You liar. You didn't even try to concentrate – she frowned – Do you smell something?

- Er…

– Shit, the dinner! – she yelled, leaping from the settee and running into the kitchen.

- Didn't you just put it in the oven?

- It just needed browning – she called back. - And it's been longer than you think!

He followed her into the kitchen and found her busying around the cooker – You know how it is, time flies when you're having fun. Want me to go for take-out?

- No, there's no need. It's not burnt – she took a large tray from the oven and dropped it carefully on the counter near them.

- Looks nice. Isn't it…

- Lasagne. You loved it in Italy, so I thought I'd give it a try.

- You cooked this?

She laughed – Yes, I did. Surprised?

He was. From what he remembered, Jenny had always cooked while they were undercover, but despite her goodwill, her cooking had always been kind of sloppy and inevitably bland. He looked at the lasagne doubtfully.

- Jethro, I've improved during the years.

- I'm sure you did… - he replied politely, still unconvinced – But where did you find the time to cook?

- I left everything ready yesterday night. All I had to do today was put it in the oven – she reached for the cupboards.

- Let me give you a hand – he helped her take the plates out from the upper shelf and set them on the table while she got the glasses, forks and knives.

- I had some cool French champagne ready, but someone has decided I shouldn't drink…

- Save it. We're going to have much to celebrate.

- I don't think I have anything else to drink…

- Water's fine.

- Water? You want water? I'll open the champagne for you.

- No way. I'll drink whatever you drink.

- Jethro, a dinner for two with water. How romantic.

- If the lasagne tastes as nice as it looks, we won't even notice what we're drinking.

- You're still afraid of my cooking. I don't blame you, I did terribly in the past – Jenny went to the fridge – It looks like there's still some orange juice. Want it?

- Bring it on.

She handed him the juice and took the lasagne tray, placing it in the middle of the table.

- Allow me – Gibbs took a large knife and served her the lasagne – Enough?

- More than enough.

He served himself and braved a small bite. It was still hot, but it certainly had a taste – Jennifer Sheppard, you truly have improved.

- I told you I had.

- I'm feeling honoured. The Director herself is cooking for me.

- Yeah. Don't get used to it.

They ate silently, observing each other across the table. Despite everything, Gibbs was still divided. His old desire was yearning for them to be together again. He had almost taken her right there on her settee. But this whole "baby" thing was overwhelming. For a moment, he thought about refusing unprotected sex, but that would just hurt her and make him look like a heartless bastard. He didn't want that.

Jenny dropped her knife and fork on her empty plate – Sure you don't wait a taste of the champagne?

- Sure I'm sure.

- Another bourbon, perhaps?

- It'd be nice, but I don't want to torture you.

She rose from her chair – Thank you. Why don't we go to another room?

He got up too. Looking at the table, he thought about offering to do the dishes, but she was looking intensely at him from the door and didn't seem to care about them at all.

He followed her back to the study. He had always wondered why she preferred it over the living room. He thought it was too cold and impersonal. And somehow, he was almost sure that was where her father had taken his life. Then again, he wasn't one to talk. So what if she used just one room in the entire house? He practically lived in his basement. At least the fireplace made the room feel cosier.

Jenny stopped by her desk. She almost didn't believe it was really happening. He was really there, just behind her. With her. His presence seemed to fill the entire room. Almost without moving, she planted the palms of her hands on the edge of the desk.

She sensed him moving. Very lightly. His chest pressed against her back and she felt his arms embrace her. She responded leaning her head towards his shoulder, letting her body touch his. Slowly. His fingers were now squeezing her hips gently. She moaned in approval, urging him on.

He moved to the upper part of her body. Fighting the urge to untie the straps of her dress, he cupped her breasts possessively, devouring the soft skin of her neck at the same time. Her moans became louder. The same urgency was taking control of her. Her hands were groping every inch of him she could get.

His hands left her breasts and went for her waist. He turned her abruptly, his lips falling on hers, demandingly. She could feel his arousal and it excited her. She pressed her hips against his, making him groan.

He'd missed her. Not even Shannon had been that passionate. No other woman had given and asked so much of him. Jenny always made his blood rush and his mind go blank. And after all that time, he was more than willing to give her all the pleasure she deserved.

She hadn't noticed he was pushing her until she hit the edge of the desk. Realising what he intended to do, she lay back on the desk, parting her legs so he could place himself between them. His hands wandered all over her body until they stopped at her belly.

Gibbs wondered if he should undress her already, but thought better not. They had all night and he sort of wanted to keep the mystery. His right hand went under her dress, all the way to her core. His fingers slid under her panties and slowly rubbed her.

Her body shivered at his touch, just the way he loved it. She had thrown her head over the other edge of the desk and arched her spine. Encouraged by her reaction, he rubbed again, this time faster. One finger slid inside her. Instead of finding a pace, he decided to tease her a bit, slowing down from time to time. When he felt she was close, he increased the speed until she screamed out loud and came in front of him.

They stood there, breathing heavily, eyes locked. Jenny felt her body unwind as the heat of the orgasm slowly left her body. When she had her strength back she sat on the desk. Pearls of sweat were running down her forehead and her hair was dishevelled. He just adored the glimpse of lust in her green eyes.

- Take me upstairs.

- As you wish – his hands circled her waist, pulling her up. Her legs locked around his hips and her hands grabbed his shoulders. He carried her carefully all the way up the stairs to her bedroom. There, he closed the door and let her slip back to her feet.

Jenny took a few steps back – I've been having all the fun. Now it's your turn – without taking her eyes from him, she undid the dress straps. The cloth slid all the way down into a lump around her heels. She stepped out of it, clad only in her black lace lingerie.

A mischievous grin emerged on her face – Like what you see?

- You know I do. I always have – he couldn't take his eyes off her. Her strapless bra and panties left very little to the imagination and he realised she had barely changed. The curves of her body were exactly as he remembered. Gibbs couldn't help but recall the nights by her side in their attic in Paris, his hand fondling that same body while she was sleeping. He was convinced he would never have the privilege of doing it again.

She came nearer, her fingers unclasping the buttons of his shirt one by one. Her lips kissed every part of his skin as it was revealed. He moaned as she did it. After the last button, she pulled his shirt off and tossed it somewhere on the floor. She loosened his belt next. Her nails toyed a bit with the hem of his boxers until she kneeled in front of him. Her warm fingers touched him, freeing his arousal from the tightness of his trousers had become. He gasped when he felt her soft mouth encircle him.

- Jen… - his fingers entwined in her hair, dishevelling it even more as she moved. Her steady pace was gently driving him to madness. His groans became guttural and louder. After a few minutes, he had to pull out.

- I don't want to come yet – he felt the need to explain, as she looked up in surprise. Snatching his hand, he helped her rise from the floor.

- You don't have to hold back.

- I know. But I want to. And now… - catching her off-guard, he unclasped her bra, throwing it away. His lips lowered to tempt her right nipple while his hand played with the other one.

- Are we ever getting to the bed is it going to be right here? – she asked, breathing heavily.

- Bed sounds nice.

She turned, heading towards the bed. Without a word, he waited until she was lying there before he joined her. He sat on the edge of the bed and lifted one of her legs, caressing it from thigh to foot. After pressing a tender kiss on the instep he removed her stiletto shoe. Then he did it again, slowly, on the other leg.

- You are beautiful – he laid on top her, kissing his way from her neck to her cleavage – I don't think I ever told you that.

Jenny smiled softly – Thank you.

He kept kissing her all the way down to her navel. As he was focusing on the soft skin of her belly, his fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties, dragging it down her slender legs. Appreciating her nudity, his lips travelled down. His tongue found her clitoris, teasing it merciless, making her pant again.

She grasped his shoulders firmly, pulling him back to her lips as her hands fought with his trousers, then removed them along with his boxers. She interrupted him just as he was getting ready to enter.

- Missionary? How unimaginative…

- Do you have a better idea?

- I think I do – she flipped them over and straddled him – Much better now.

- You always did love to be on top, Director.

Her grin distracted him for a second and she lowered herself on him suddenly. The deep penetration made them both gasp.

Jenny grabbed his hands and placed them on her hips, then secured herself on his shoulders for better support. She began to ride him gently, looking for the most pleasurable angle, until his fingers, digging deeply into her skin, told her she'd found it. Their eyes met and she increased her pace. He'd always liked things fast, just like her, and she had no reason to believe he had changed.

He didn't say so, but he loved that she was on top. He loved to see the way her head was thrown back, her lips slightly parted with pleasure. He loved to see her riding him like there was no tomorrow. Their bodies in complete synchrony.

Even after all these years, he could still tell when she was about to climax. Her breath had turned irregular and her moans louder. And he wasn't too far from it himself.

She collapsed on him as the waves of pleasure hit her violently. The sight made him come, grasping her flesh strongly while his seed spilled deep inside her. His mind went blank. He embraced her tightly, and for a few seconds they just lied there, trying to remember how to breathe. Gently, he removed a few hair strands that were pasted to her face, and caressed her cheek.

- Jethro…

He kissed her lovingly. She rested her head on his chest, her fingers lazily tracing the contour of his muscles. There were some new scars on his skin that she didn't know. Some other day she would ask him about it. Not that she didn't have hers, but luckily they were tiny and discrete. Most had come from when they were working together, but there were a couple that had come after. And after all, who in the agency's active duty wasn't scarred…

One of his hands left her back and groped around, until find the edge of the bed sheets.

- Jethro.

- Yeah?

She rose to a sitting position – You don't need to stay if you don't want to. Really.

- I want to stay.

- I don't want to force you into something.

- You're not. I'll only go away if you want me to. Do you want me to?

- No. Stay.

He nodded, smiling. With the bed now open, he slipped into it, making room for her.

- Come on.

She laid with her back against his chest. His arms came around and she brought her hands to it, closing the embrace. She didn't need to say how happy she was that he wanted to stay. With her. She had never felt this safe in anyone's arms. She hardly noticed falling asleep at all.

_Reviews are so rewarding ;) _


	12. Living and Loving

_A/N: Thanks everyone, the last reviews were really kind. Once again, thank you my love, we are really getting efficient, me improving my English and you your speed of betareading. Love you._

_A/N 2: By the way, everyone must have noticed that I write mostly in British English. That was the way I was taught and I'm not familiar with American English. I know this is an American story, but I don't want to mess up the writing, so I stick to what I know. Of course I don't use typical British expressions, and boyfriend helps me with American expressions when he can. And the "take-away"/"take-out" thing was intriguing me since I could swear I'd learnt "take-away". Mystery solved, take-away is BE. _

* * *

Gibbs didn't sleep much that night. The woman lying next to him was much more appealing than sleep. His hands travelled over her entire body while his lips pressed soft kisses on her exposed skin. His fingers played with her hair, which wasn't as long as he liked anymore, but had that red colour that attracted him so much.

At some point the sun began to shine through her curtains, and he carefully pulled her away from its light. He could tell she definitely needed some sleep. As far as he knew, she usually had very little of it during the week.

From his side of the bed he couldn't see the alarm clock on her bedside table, but he didn't care. It was Saturday, and his team didn't have any cases. He also needed a relaxed weekend.

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was his face smiling at her.

- Good morning – he said, tenderly.

- Good morning – she leaned until her lips found his - Oh God, I must have overslept… what time is it?

- Hush. Who cares?

- I guess you're right… - she grabbed the covers and rolled closer to him – I feel like I could lie here all day.

- Well, who's stopping us? – he began to press small kisses down her neck and throat, making her giggle.

- Jethro, let me wake properly first!

- Fine. Wake up, then.

She pushed him away playfully, but only to roll over him and pin his hands over his head.

- Fighting for dominance again, Jen?

- You forced me to – it was her turn to lower her head and kiss his body.

The annoying sound of a ringtone filled the room.

Jenny dropped her head onto his chest in annoyance, pretending for a few seconds it wasn't her mobile phone that was ringing and vibrating like crazy on top of her bedside table. Resigned, she reached for the phone, but Gibbs prevented her.

- Leave it.

- I can't.

- C'mon.

- At least let me see who's calling – she rolled again to the left side of the bed and took the phone from the table – Shit, it's SecNav.

- The guy has a thing for calling on Saturday mornings, hasn't he?

- I guess so – Jenny sighed before pressing the button – Sheppard. Good morning, sir.

Gibbs crossed one arm under his head, waiting. The problem was that he knew that a conversation with SecNav could be everything but brief.

- The operation was successful, yes, I thought the report had already been sent to… oh, I see. The situation in the Golf of Aden isn't completely stable yet, but … I'm aware of that, sir.

He decided to roll onto his side. Despite SecNav and his sense of opportunity, he didn't want to lose the sight of Jenny naked, laying face down, with her back totally exposed to him. His fingers reached her body, wandering lightly over the arch of her spine.

Her face turned to him while still listening to the phone, a gratifying smile showing up in her lips. But her attention was again called back to the phone.

- The Somalian pirates are constantly attacking our naval and supplier ships, our troops in South Iraq and Afghanistan can't afford not to receive their supplies on time. Yes, another operation to free the Aden of all piracy is a priority.

Gibbs saw her frown. His fingers left her back and he sat up. His hands found her shoulders, beginning to massage them slowly. He could not see her face, but he could feel she was loving it.

- I'm completely aware of our budget limitations, but it's our troops' supplies that are at risk – she began to feel the tension gradually melt away. Her muscles relaxed as his hands touched the sore parts of her body. Soon he was massaging her entire back. He sat on top of her, looking for better access.

- Sir, N.C.I.S.' budget is minimal compared to the majority of the other sister agencies. I simply don't have the means for such a large scale operation without financial support from Homeland Security. That's the only way, I can't see any other options – that certainly wasn't how she wanted to begin her day. Thankfully, he was reminding her that she was lying in bed with her lover and not stuck at work.

Gibbs continued down to her lower back, pressing his fingers along her tense muscles even as he cursed SecNav and the whole office in his mind. Even if the man had nothing better to do on a Saturday morning, it didn't mean his employees couldn't have personal lives. And he was enjoying his own too much to interrupt it now.

- I see, sir – Jenny suppressed a moan when his hands found her thighs – I'll wait until Senator Carlisle is back in D.C.. I believe he'll return next Tuesday. The proposal will be presented with urgency and… - one of his fingers left her thigh, suddenly sliding inside her. She couldn't hold the moan this time, and was forced to disguise it as a cough.

- Director Sheppard, are you alright? – Gibbs smirked when he heard SecNav's voice coming from the mobile phone. Jenny had turned her head to face him and she looked at him with murder in her eyes. She covered the phone's mouthpiece for a second.

- Jethro! What do you think you're doing?

- Pleasuring you.

- Director Sheppard? – came the voice from the earpiece again.

- I'm here, sir. I apologise, I have a severe cold – she shot another angry look at Gibbs, but he pretended he didn't see it. Another finger joined the previous one, rubbing her.

Jenny heard her voice starting to come out between heavy breaths. She tried to push him away with her free hand, but he managed to avoid her. Realising that she wasn't paying any attention to SecNav anymore, she quickly responded – Yes, sir – having no idea what she was agreeing with.

She felt him lying on top of her. She found it increasingly hard not to pant, as he was speeding up the pace. His tongue found a weak spot on her neck, ruining her concentration skills.

- The best option would be to schedule the operation for… - this time she moaned. Loudly.

He had removed his fingers and was now rapidly thrusting into her, making her mind go blank. Her right hand clasped the phone while the other one went for the edge of the mattress. She couldn't help but spread her legs, giving him full access. Her knuckles went white. His hard plunging was making her insane.

- Director Sheppard? – she heard the voice asking for the third time.

- Sir? – luckily, her voice didn't betray her. Luck and a lot of self-control. At least Jethro was having the decency of not groaning – Yes, everything's alright, I just stumbled.

Gibbs almost laughed at her improvisation skills. But as fun as it was, he was getting tired of waiting for the man to hang up, and he could tell neither of them could hold it for much longer. One of his hands was now gripping her hip while the other was at her shoulder, supporting him.

- Very well then, sir. I'll contact you first thing Monday morning. Have a nice weekend, sir – she tossed the phone on the bed as soon as the SecNav hung up, finally allowing herself to moan.

His thrusting became even harder and the orgasm took her. Her head fell onto her pillow, muting her screams. Still half-unconscious, she felt him come too, his body falling over hers.

Jenny rolled on her back, tossing him to the other side of the bed. Finally able to face him, she saw his wide grin and the playful glimpse in his blue eyes. His chest was rising and lowering unevenly.

- You are so dead, Leroy Jethro Gibbs – she was panting too much to sound as threatening as she had intended.

- I thought your plan was to do this the entire weekend – he answered innocently.

- Not with SecNav on the phone!

- Tell me I didn't make it more interesting.

- Bastard.

- That's how you like me.

She tried to punch him lightly in the shoulder, but her reflexes were totally shot. He laughed at her failed attempt. Not that he was in any better shape.

- I just hope he didn't realise what was happening…

- Not if he's as sexually frustrated as he looks.

Jenny giggled – What, are you privy to the SecNav's intimate life now?

- No, thank God – he rolled until he was on top of her again, now facing her. His lips lowered toward hers, but she placed a hand between them, stopping the kiss.

- I haven't forgiven you yet, you know?

- C'mon Jen, you had fun too.

- It was too risky.

He pushed her hand away, still looking at her with the same blameless expression – From what I remember, you like taking risks… - his lips wandered over her chin.

- Are you trying to shut me up, Jethro? – she arched her back, exposing her neck to him.

- Damn, I thought I was being subtle.

- You, subtle?

He pressed his lips on hers, making her silent.

- So, are we really going to stay here all day or do you have other plans? – she asked when they parted.

- Staying here is tempting, but what do you say about having lunch downtown?

She smiled – Are you inviting me, Jethro?

- Of course I am. Unless you prefer to stay here and finish the lasagne. Or order something.

- A change of scenery sounds nice.

- I thought so.

Jenny slid from under him and sat up, stretching her arms.

- So we're going? – he asked.

- Sure. I just need to take a bath.

- So do I.

She rose from the bed, heading towards the bathroom, then turned her head, flirting– What do you say about an innocent shower together?

- Innocent? Not if I have anything to do with it…

* * *

An hour later they were getting into his car, still parked two houses away. Jenny looked around, trying to spot her security detail. She found them almost at the end of the street, parked in the corner.

- Can I wave at them? – Gibbs asked as he took the keys from his pocket.

- Behave, Jethro.

- Aw, c'mon. I'd love to see their faces come Monday.

- I'd love to see their faces right now – she opened the door and sat in the passenger seat, looking for the safety belt. He got inside and started the engine.

- So, where are we going? – she asked.

- Surprise.

- Really? This is getting interesting.

He grinned and drove out of her neighbourhood, heading towards the centre. As usual, the traffic was slowing down the downtown accesses, forcing Gibbs to a liberal use of the car's horn. Getting into Independence Avenue was beginning to look like an impossible task.

- Damned tourists! – Gibbs grumbled, stepping on the gas pedal.

- Slow down, Jethro.

- What? You never complained about my driving before.

- There wasn't the possibility I could be carrying your child before.

He slowed down at once – Fine.

- No bourbon for me, no racing for you.

- Deal - as he slowed, the tourist bus took his place in front of his car - Still, damned tourists.

The scenery in Maine Avenue wasn't any different and Jenny couldn't help but start laughing at Gibbs, constantly cursing every car that happened to be in his away.

- Jethro, how long has it been since you haven't been out of your house on a Saturday morning with no work to do?

He didn't answer. He was busy blowing the horn at a Ford Transit which was refusing to move on, even though the traffic lights were green for almost a minute ago.

- Finally – he protested when they entered M Street – Don't worry, we won't get anywhere near the Navy Yard.

Jenny sighed in relief.

- Though I'm tempted to park at the NCIS. It'll be hard to find a parking space.

- Jethro, you know what will happen if anyone spots me there.

- Yeah, I'll lose you until tonight. Hang on… - not quite believing his luck, Gibbs momentarily forgot his promise and accelerated towards a parking space by the sidewalk, where another car was just leaving.

- So, where are we headed? - Jenny asked again when they got out of the car.

- Still surprise – he signalled her to follow him. They walked together, his arm around her shoulders just like they used to in Europe. She smiled. He was so concentrated on finding the place that he hadn't noticed they were walking just like any other ordinary couple.

- There. Thank God, it's still open. I was afraid it might not be.

Jenny's smile got wider – A French restaurant.

- Don't you like it? – he sounded worried.

She leaned towards him and kissed him lightly – I love it.

He relaxed – Let's go in, then. I want a nice place by the window.

- Oh my, I'm actually seeing Jethro Gibbs being romantic.

- I can go back to being a pain in the arse, if you want – he teased.

- No! Save it for work.

- Then let me be a gentleman – he opened the restaurant door for her and let her pass. A waitress guided them to a table near the window, as he had asked for, and brought them the menu.

- Are we going to order together or separated? – Gibbs asked while his eyes wandered through the list – Half the names are in French, care to give me a hand?

She didn't answer, forcing him to look away from the menu – Jen?

She was looking through the large window. At the sound of her name, she turned – I'm sorry, I was just making sure…

- What?

- That there were no journalists after us.

He had forgotten the journalists. Between security details, journalists and just curious people, it seemed that Jenny was always being followed by someone.

- Do you want to move away from the window?

- No. To hell with them. I'd rather a photo holding hands with you than the ones where I'm entering the Senate, headlines screaming "NCIS Director begs for budget increase".

- And you wonder why I get along so nicely with the press. So, are you going to help me through the language barrier or what?

She grabbed her menu – If I remember correctly, you liked the onion soup very much in Paris.

- The one with the bread?

- Yeah.

- Good. One for me. And that stew thing we ate at Marseille, what was it called?

- Bouillabaisse.

Gibbs closed his menu – Done. And you?

- The Bouillabaisse is tempting… so is the Quiche Lorraine.

- Quiche?

- Sort of a pie. I think we ate it once in Paris.

- Order the pie and the stew. We'll alternate.

- Good idea. Drink? – Jenny look sadly at the magnificent wine and champagne list.

He leaned over the table and turned the page of her menu – There's a section of non-alcoholic drinks.

- How nice of them – she read the entire list, looking for something appealing – This Grenadine Syrup, then.

- Two.

- I told you, you don't have to join me in the Prohibition.

- Two Grenadine Syrups it is – Gibbs waved to the nearest waiter – You better order. I'd stumble all over the words.

- My french isn't what it used to be – she said. Nevertheless, she ordered with no major problems. The syrups came quickly and she took a sip – Not bad.

- Yeah. Want to toast?

- What to?

- To us. Together again.

Jenny rose her glass, and they toasted - You've never been to Germany, have you, Jethro?

- No, why?

- They have this superstition that you've got to always look in the eye of the person you're toasting with.

- Why?

- Because if you don't, it's seven years of bad sex.

He laughed – Don't worry, we'll never suffer from that.

Jenny took another sip from her glass and leaned on her chair – Feels so nice…

- What, sex?

- Well, yes, that too. But I meant this. You know, a quiet Saturday spent resting and living.

- Great, because I intend to do this more often.

- I just hope I get the time.

- I'll kidnap Cynthia so she can't deliver your weekly schedule.

- Oh, stop terrifying Cynthia, she's just doing her job.

- I know. But her job often seems to be stopping me from seeing you. By the way, what did SecNav want, besides ruining our morning?

Jenny looked around. Even if it was Saturday, they were still near all the federal agencies headquarters and the last thing she needed was someone eavesdropping their conversation at that point. No recognising anyone, she lowered her voice.

- It looks like nobody was yesterday at his office by 1730, when I sent the report about yesterday's operation.

- That one you followed in MTAC? – they were both talking almost in a whisper.

- Yeah. A chase to the pirate ships that crowded the Gulf of Aden. They've been attacking supply ships that are meant for our troops in southern Iraq.

- Was it successful?

- We caught one of the major leaders. But it's only a setback for them, next month they'll come up with another one and everything will be the same. I want to prepare a bigger operation, to catch all the leaders, ships and crew.

- And SecNav doesn't want to?

- Oh, he does. But he wants me to do it without further financial support, which is impossible. An operation of this scale costs almost the entire NCIS budget of one year. But I know whose arses to kiss.

- Homeland Security?

- One of them, yes. And a few Senators. They're the ones who sign all the papers, so they're always helpful.

- See why I don't ever want to be Director?

- I know, Jethro. But I do love my job.

- More than you loved being a field agent? Don't lie to me, Jen.

She waited a few seconds before answering – I miss the field, it's true. I miss the investigation. Above all, I miss the companionship of being part of a team. You know what they say. It's lonely at the top. Definitely. But I put everything I had into it, and I came to love it.

- And you deserved it – his hand found hers over the table, caressing it.

- Thank you, Jethro. In three years, I'm sure I've never heard you saying that.

- Well, I'm saying it now – he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss on it.

They were interrupted by two waiters with a tray. Their plates came covered with a lid, from under which steam was slowly escaping.

- So much food! – Jenny remarked as the waiters left.

- Great, I'm starving. And you've got to feed yourself now.

- It doesn't mean I have to eat until I burst.

He wasn't paying her any attention anymore, busy as he was trying to take the food from the dishes with two spoons – Give me your plate.

She did. – Try not to overdo it.

* * *

Despite her pleading, Jethro kept filling her plate from time to time. The food was so delicious that she couldn't help but keep eating. And then they had desserts. By the time they left the restaurant, Jenny was so full she could barely walk.

- Want to go to the park?

- I'll have a congestion if I walk all that way.

- We can drive there. And then we can sit on a bench, enjoying the fresh air.

- Sounds nice.

- Are you sure you can survive walking back to the car?

- Don't mock me.

- But it's my favourite hobby.

- You like it even more than boat building?

- Hmmm, tough question.

They went slowly by the sidewalk, Jenny stopping at the shops windows, even dragging Gibbs into a few ones.

- Jen? – he called when they were leaving a shoe shop.

- Yes?

- There's a drugstore over there. Shouldn't we buy some tests?

Jenny looked in the direction he was pointing – It's too early, Jethro. If there is a baby, it's smaller than a pin's head. Won't show up in a test yet.

- So, when can you be tested?

- Next week.

- Why not buy the tests now?

- Ok. Why not.

- Wait here. I'll go. Someone might recognise you from the newspapers or from the TV.

- Fine, I'll wait here.

Gibbs nodded and entered, returning a few minutes later with a plastic bag.

- Did you buy the entire stock? – she asked, noticing how full the bag was.

- No. But I got a couple, so we don't have to rush to the drugstore every week.

- Give it to me, I'll put it in my handbag.

- Here you go. So, the Park?

* * *

When Jenny unlocked her front door it was already night. Gibbs had parked in front of her house and was now waiting for her to open the door. The cold outside was not pleasant and he had forgotten to bring a coat the night before.

She entered, followed close by him – Thank you – she whispered in his ear as she closed the door – It was a lovely day.

- We still have tomorrow. Got any plans? The one about staying in bed the whole day sounded great.

- I was thinking about it, actually.

Her arms circled his neck – What are we waiting for?

_See the green button with Review spelled? Press it and make this author happy:)_


	13. Bets and Cases

_A/N: Well, it looks like everything has decided to get in the way this last week; work, things to study... and cherry on top of the cake, my computer has decided to crash every five minutes. But here it is, the new chapter already posted. And I have a surprise! Yeah, I've learnt how to use quotation marks in the dialogue! Once again, I want to thank my faithful beta read; darling, love you! And thnks once more!_

* * *

Timothy McGee leaned on his chair, puzzled. He read again the lines flashing on his computer screen. His fingers went for the keyboard, but stopped before typing anything. His mind was concentrating hard on the task before him. Well, maybe concentrating a bit _too _hard, as he didn't notice Tony's tiptoeing steps until it was too late.

"What are you doing, Probie?"

McGee closed the window immediately. "Nothing."

"Trying to fool us, McGee?" He nodded towards Ziva's desk. "Me and crazy ninja over there were wondering what the hell you were doing, since you looked so-"

"Your face was hilarious", Ziva mocked, mimicking his concentrated look.

"So, Probie, what's that blue window you've just closed?"

"None of your business, Tony."

"Wrong answer."

"Well, fine. It's a game."

"A game?"

"Yeah, a game."

"Where are the graphics?"

"It doesn't have any. It's called Interactive Fiction, alright?"

Tony grabbed his mouse and opened the window. "Are you telling me this thing is a game? How the hell do you play it, there's no pictures!"

"Do you choose a book the same way, Tony?"

"Don't pull that one on me, Probie. Of course not. Are you forgetting I read that wonderful work of _fiction_ called 'Deep Six'?" Tony turned his attention back to the 'game'. "It looks more that you're hacking into the FBI. Check it out, Ziva."

The Mossad agent left her desk, joining them behind McGee's.

"For your information, this is Infocom's classic 1986 game called Trinity, by Brian Moriarty, whose storyline has been praised for-"

"I'm with you Tony, this is _so_ geek."

McGee was about to reply when his eyes fell on the lift. "Lift is going to stop on this floor."

In less than a second, Tony and Ziva where sitting behind their own desks, looking as busy as ever. The lift doors opened and a few junior agents came out, heading towards their desks on the other side of the bullpen. But Gibbs was nowhere to be seen.

"False alarm," said Tony, leaning back on his chair, no longer pretending to be busy.

"It's almost 0800," Ziva remarked.

"So? Want me to go fetch him? Go back to your weird game, Probie. Boss isn't in the area."

"Gibbs is never late," Ziva insisted.

"There's a first time for everything."

"Maybe he's in MTAC," McGee pointed out while reopening his game's window.

"Or maybe he fell asleep under the boat. C'mon, the man is human too."

"No, he's not, Tony. You should know that by now," said a voice from behind him.

"Abby? You, upstairs?"

The Goth girl came around his desk and sat on it, her metallic bracelets rattling with every movement. "It's so dull in the lab. Nothing to do yet. You'd better have a case today, or I'm falling asleep on my futon."

"There are other teams working on this building, Abby," Ziva said from her desk.

"I know. But their cases are nowhere as exciting as yours. So, why is my silver fox late?"

"No clue." McGee answered, typing on his keyboard.

"Guess what, I'm tired of just waiting for Gibbs to show up." Tony got up and grabbed his coat. "I'm going out for coffee. Who's coming with?"

Ziva's conscience wandered between her duty and her caffeine fix; the latter eventually won. "I am."

"Ok. You stay here, McGee. Boss'll kills us all if he arrives and nobody is here."

"Why me? I want a coffee too."

"We'll bring you one." Leaving no time for McGee to protest, Tony and Ziva went to the lift. As soon as they pressed the button, the lift doors opened again, this time with Gibbs inside. And he was not alone.

"DiNozzo. Ziva. Leaving already?"

"Boss. Director. 'Morning."

Jenny held onto a smile as Tony's eyes jumped back and forth between Gibbs and herself. "Good morning, Agent DiNozzo."

"We… we were only going to the coffee shop," Ziva explained.

"Already ran out of caffeine without any work to do?"

"Going back to our desks, Boss."

"Good. See you in a minute." Gibbs leaned and pressed the last floor button, closing the doors on an astonished Tony and Ziva.

"I told you arriving late wasn't a good idea," Jenny said, smiling.

"Tell me it wasn't worth it." He rested his head on the curve of her neck, caressing her face.

"Oh, definitely. But you know, I could hear DiNozzo thinking."

"I can take care of him. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried. But I bet that right now your entire team is wondering what the hell you're doing, escorting me to my office."

Downstairs, Tony was still looking at the closed lift doors. "Where the hell is he going?"

"Upstairs."

"Thank you, Ziva, I could figure out that much by myself." They both turned, heading back to their desks.

"Where's my coffee?" McGee asked without looking away from the screen.

"Forget coffee, Probie. We've got much more serious issues to discuss."

"For example?"

"Why Boss man and Boss lady arrived together."

"Tony, you don't know if they arrived together. They could have met in the lift." Ziva sat back on her chair.

"Yeah, right."

"Mummy and Daddy arrived together?" They had almost forgotten that Abby was still in the bullpen with them.

"We don't know, Abby-"

"Have you ever seen any of them arriving late?" Tony cut Ziva.

"The Director was late once," McGee remembered.

"She'd been kidnapped. I don't think that counts." Tony was now smirking widely. "Fifty bucks says they spent the night together."

"I would like to get fifty bucks from you every time you said that," Ziva responded. "By the way, how do you plan to find out if you're right?"

"I'm an investigator, remember?"

"No. You are a nosey bloke."

"I'm putting fifty on Tony."

"Thanks, Abs."

Ziva rolled her eyes.

Tony opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a small, worn notebook. After finding an empty sheet, he grabbed a pencil. "So, that's fifty from me, fifty from Abby, fifty from Probie-"

"Hey!" McGee blurted out. "Don't write me in!"

"Don't be a spoilsport, McGeek. Besides, this is a win-win situation, trust me. Where was I… Right, fifty bucks from Ziva in how they're _not_ sleeping together. Loser."

"Stop it, Tony." In less than a second, Ziva had jumped from her desk and was trying to snatch Tony's notebook. "So this is where you keep all the bets…"

"DiNozzo, David." Gibbs said, seemingly appearing from nowhere.

"Boss!" The notebook was tossed back into the depths of the drawer.

Thankfully, Gibbs' desk phone rang.

"Dead woman found at Quantico. Stop acting like children and gear up."

* * *

Jenny took a look at the clock on her desk. She had to be in MTAC in half an hour for a meeting with SecNav. Despite the lovely weekend she had had, she couldn't stop wondering if SecNav had really bought her excuses. Facing the man on the big screen would definitely tell her if he had.

Her hand travelled up to the spot on her neck where, just minutes ago, Gibbs had been kissing her. If she hadn't practically thrown him out of her office… the corners of her lips twisted playfully at the thought of what would certainly have happened.

In order to be able to work properly, she dismissed Gibbs from her thoughts. She rose from her chair and went to the drinks cabinet. Ignoring the bourbon bottle, she took a glass, went over to the sink and filled it with water. It would probably be wisest to give to Gibbs the bottle, later that day, to keep the temptation at bay.

Searching through her handbag, she found the medicines flasks and briefly studied them. The recent change in her medication still confused her a bit. After a quick check at the prescriptions she took two different pills and swallowed them with the water. The flasks were tossed again into her handbag, safely hidden at the bottom. It had been hard to take her medication on time behind Gibbs' back during the weekend, but somehow she had managed.

Jenny drank what little water was left in the glass and put it on her desk. She grabbed her spectacles and prepared herself for another round of report-reading, but the phone on her desk rang as soon as she had opened the first file.

"Sheppard."

"Director, SecNav's office has called. He'd like to know if your meeting in MTAC could be sooner. In ten minutes, more precisely.

"Yes, it can. Call MTAC and say that I'm heading there."

"Alright, madam."

* * *

"How could anyone drop a body here and not be seen?" McGee didn't wait for an answer, as the rest of the team was wondering the same thing. When they called in, they hadn't mentioned that the body was lying right under the Marine Memorial, at the Base front gate.

A uniformed man was waiting near the gates and was now walking in their direction. "Special Agent Gibbs?"

"That'd be me."

"Gunnery Sergeant Andersen. Commander Phillips has sent me to welcome you and give you all the possible information."

They walked towards the gates, Gibbs now at Andersen's side. "Any clues on the victim's ID?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid, Agent Gibbs. It takes time to go through almost twelve thousand people, military and civilian."

"I'm aware of that."

"But you can trust that as soon as we have any information, you'll be the first to know."

The team stopped at the Memorial. Lying at its bottom was a woman's body, messily tossed at the pavement. Her face was not visible through the dishevelled blonde hair, but from the bruises on her arms they could tell she had been assaulted.

"Ducky should be here by now. Where is he?" Gibbs asked while the rest of the team was busy opening their kits and preparing all the material.

"They were right behind us, I don't know why they haven't arrived when we did…" Ziva answered, removing the cover from her camera's lens.

Gibbs just shrugged and moved towards the body, careful not to touch it. He leaned down and took a better look.

"He's in a good mood," Ziva heard from behind her.

"And?" she answered, facing her camera's screen and not Tony.

"This is Gibbs we're talking about."

"It happens."

"Yeah. Once in a year. And last Friday he was in a good mood too."

"So it happens twice in a year. Get a life, DiNozzo. Leave Gibbs' alone."

"He's not even pissed off with Ducky being late. Don't tell me that's not weird."

"Out of character, maybe. Not… weird." Ziva stepped near the body and started taking pictures.

A car's noise came from the base gates and the large NCIS Medical Examiner MPV appeared, parking by their car. A stressed Ducky came out of it a few seconds later, walking towards them while Palmer was busy taking the stretcher and the medical kits.

"I deeply apologise…"

Gibbs rose from near the corpse. "What happened, Duck? Weren't you just behind us?"

"We were, but when Ziva turned abruptly out of the highway, Mr Palmer had no time to turn and we went straight to Interstate Highway connection. It was awhile before we found a turning point. I could swear we were going to end up in Iowa."

"See how much damage you can do with a steering wheel on your hands, Ziva?"

"Oh, shut up, Tony."

"So, what do we have here?" Ducky asked, approaching the dead body.

"We're waiting you to tell us. We've got nothing so far." Gibbs explained.

Ducky kneeled. "My knees aren't what they used to be… Caucasian woman, apparently defensive wounds on her arms and knuckles…" he turned her slowly and lifted her hair from her face, "A young woman, I'm afraid… And quite an unseen hairstyle these days…"

"What do you mean, Ducky?" McGee asked.

"Despise being dishevelled, our lady was using a French Twist. See here?" The doctor pointed to what was left of the twisted ponytail.

"It might not be the most fashionable hairstyle nowadays, but it's not uncommon," Ziva remarked.

"Is it just me or does she look like she came straight from the fifties?" Tony asked after a better look. "Hair, polished nails, you can still see what was left of the make-up… even the dress. I doubt she was in the Marine Corps. More likely a marine's wife."

"Or a civil employee." Ziva remembered.

Gibbs leaned a bit, something calling is attention. "Another bruise in her face."

"Yes. And a nasty one." Ducky looked around, until he spotted Palmer coming over, bringing the medical gear. "Mr Palmer?"

"Here, Doctor Mallard."

"Help me check the liver's temperature, Mr Palmer."

"Cause of death?" Gibbs asked.

"Give me some minutes, Jethro. Death occurred eight to ten hours ago, but the night was cold, so…"

"That's gives us…between 2200 and 0000, more or less." McGee counted.

"No petechias. No concussion or any visible marks, neck and mouth included. I guess we'll got to wait for the tox screen."

"That's all, Duck?"

"Yes, Jethro. Mr Palmer, just let me check here… Yes, a few livid marks inconsistent with her current position."

"So, she's been moved?"

"I would say so, yes."

"Thanks Duck." Gibbs turned to face his team. "Ziva, DiNozzo, finish the search on the perimeter. McGee, you and I are going to start asking questions. We need to know if anyone from around here has seen anything, and try to identify her. Duck, are you returning to D.C. already?"

"Yes. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can find the cause of death."

"Let me know then."

"Of course. See you later."

Gibbs nodded, turning to McGee. "Let's go then."

* * *

Jenny grabbed her coat, getting ready herself to leave the office. After making sure she wasn't leaving anything behind that would force her to return, like her spectacles or her mobile phone, she took her handbag and headed for the door.

Instead of taking the lift, she came near the catwalk and gazed at the empty bullpen. She smiled the moment her eyes focused on a certain occupied desk. Trying not to be noticed, she went to the stairs and crossed the bullpen.

"Working overtime, Jethro?"

His head rose from whatever he was reading. "Sort of. More of an excuse to wait for you, actually. How was your day?"

"Crappy." Jenny grabbed an empty chair from Ziva's desk and sat across him.

"What about… SecNav?" Gibbs couldn't help but grin.

"As stubborn as last Saturday. But no, he didn't… hmm, mention anything, no. Nor have I noticed anything."

"Good."

"How's the case? Brief me, I barely had time to know what it was about."

"The Stepford Wife?"

"What?"

"That's what DiNozzo calls her. For Abby, she's just Marilyn."

"But why? Does she-"

"Resemble the typical housewife? Yes. But we've come up with an ID. Laura Carlson, married to Sergeant Hank Carlson, who serves in Recruiting Command. He had been supervising an exercise outside the base all morning, so it was a neighbour who recognised the body. Abby has begun to run the tox screen, but nothing has shown up yet and Ducky couldn't determine the cause of death."

"Dead end so far?"

Gibbs shrugged. She knew he disliked being stuck. Tossing the papers he was reading into the top drawer, he grabbed his things. "Shall we go?"

"Together?"

"Of course."

"What happened to not living together?"

"We haven't started pissing each other yet, so let's enjoy it."

"I kind of like that, you know…" Jenny rose from the chair and followed him to the lift. "Whose place then?"

"You choose."

"Mine."

"I knew it. I'll have to stop by my place, then. I need some clothes. I can't wear the same shirt three times in a row."

"Don't complain, I washed it for you like a good housewife."

He laughed.

"Every time you laugh at my domestic skills, I wonder I didn't let you starve back in Serbia."

He laughed again and, taking advance of the bullpen's emptiness, he caressed her face fondly.

_Reviews are welcomed and loved! :D_


	14. Tests and Tries

_A/N: Enjoy the new chapter! Thank you, my faithful betareader but above all, my love. Thank you darling._

* * *

_One week later_

Director Jennifer Sheppard was feeling rather silly as she stared at the plastic stick, waiting for any kind of reaction.

"Jen, you went down the hole?"

"How charming, Jethro. No, I'm waiting."

"Can't we wait together?"

"Of course." She took the test from the sink and opened the door. Gibbs was sitting on her office's settee, and despite his apparent relaxation, she could feel his anxiety.

"How long?" He asked as she sat by his side.

"About four minutes."

"Hasn't it been that long yet? You were locked in there for almost ten!"

"Barely two minutes, Jethro."

"Who says so?"

"My watch."

"And is it set?"

"It is."

An uncomfortable silence settled for the last minute of waiting. Gibbs' hand slid onto Jenny's and their fingers entwined.

"It should be showing something by now…" Jenny noticed as the only visible bar in the test remained solitaire.

"One means…"

"No baby. At least, no baby showing up yet." She heard a hint of disappointment in her own voice.

"So, that's not… entirely bad, is it?"

"No, it's not. And… well, it has been barely more than a week, hasn't it?" Jenny forced a smile. "Even trying as hard as we have…"

"When should we test again? Three or four days?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Gibbs pulled her until her head was lying against his chest. "Feeling sad?"

"No… I mean… Right, it was stupid, it was foolish of me to think we'd get a positive result right on the first try." Jenny tried to get up but his tight hold prevented her.

"Don't chastise yourself so much, Jen. It's perfectly normal for you, for us, to be expectant."

"I know. It's just-"

"This is one of those things you simply can't be in control of. For once in your life, let things happen."

Her sigh told him more than anything she could have said. Trying to soothe her, his fingers found a strand of her hair and toyed with it for a while, until they were interrupted by the ringing of his mobile phone.

"We really need to get rid of these things one day," he snapped while searching for the offensive device in his jacket's pockets. "Gibbs…. On my way." He switched off promptly. "Got to go…"

"What happened?"

"Another dead woman at Quantico." Gibbs didn't ever bother to hide how much the case had been getting on his nerves. One week, third corpse found and they barely had anything they could call a clue. It was rare for his team to take so long to catch someone.

"Where was she found this time?"

"Right in the vestibule of the Marine Corps Combat Development Command. They're getting even more audacious."

"Overconfidence usually leads to mistakes."

"I know."

Jenny moved away from his hold, letting him rise to his feet.

"Have to go. See you later. And don't think about this too much."

"I don't intend to."

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before heading towards the door. Jenny closed it after him and returned to the settee, grabbing the discarded negative test. Carefully, she wrapped it in toilet paper before tossing it in the rubbish bin. Not that she was suspicious, but the cleaning staff had nothing to do with her private life.

* * *

"Here we are again," Tony said, voicing the entire team's thoughts as they crossed the gates of the Quantico Base once more.

"I'm getting sick and tired of this guy," Ziva said, more to herself than to her colleagues.

Gunnery Sergeant Andersen was waiting for them one more time at the base's main entrance. His stern look left no doubts about what was crossing his mind at the moment.

"Third victim, Agent Gibbs. You better find something this time. Are you aware how unstable life and morale have become on this base?"

Gibbs didn't answer directly. "Have you come up with an ID sooner this time?"

"Clarice Murphy."

"Husband's rank and post."

"Lieutenant Dwaine Murphy, currently overseas on the _USNS K. L. Llewellyn_."

"Anything relevant or different this time?"

"I thought it was _your_ job to-"

"Anything?"

"No."

"So, why are we here wasting time?"

"Very well. I'll take you to the crime scene." They all let him walk ahead, following closely but not enough for him to hear them.

"Three victims, Ducky. I suppose that now he can qualify as a serial killer," Gibbs remarked bitterly.

"I'm afraid so, Jethro."

"The way the guy moves still bugs me," Tony pointed out. "C'mon, this is a crowded Marine's base, how the hell nobody ever sees a man dragging a body, even during the night?"

"We can't even assume that he drags them," McGee added. "Maybe they're not already dead when he places them…"

"No, Timothy. Lividity is consistent with movement a few moments after death occurs," Ducky said categorically.

Lost in their thoughts, they arrived at the Marine Corps Combat Development Command building. The two privates flanking the door moved hastily aside when Andersen arrived.

"Here," he pointed needlessly to the lying shape on the floor, right on the vestibule's centre. Even at that distance, they could see the victim was left at the same position as the others before. Same blonde and dishevelled hair in what had once been a French Twist, same type of clothes.

"We're going to need the surveillance tapes from this building," McGee told to Andersen as his eyes quickly spotted the cameras in the room. All he got was a dry nod for an answer.

At the same time, Ducky and Palmer were busy around the body, while a bright light flashing every ten seconds indicated that Ziva was throwing the case's frustrations on the photographic camera.

"You probably have already heard me saying this," Ducky said, "Defensive wounds on her arms and hands and nothing else at naked eye. Dilated pupils. Based on the last victims, I would say this young lady also died of atropine poisoning, but again, we need to wait for the tox screen."

"Nothing new?" Gibbs dared to ask, dreading the answer.

"No, Jethro. Unfortunately not."

"Ok. DiNozzo?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Go interview their neighbours, since her husband isn't in the country. Take Ziva with you."

"Right. On my way."

"McGee?"

"I've already requested the footage from this area, indoor and outdoor."

"Get it quickly and start watching it."

"Sure."

Gibbs went back near the body where Ducky was carefully removing the thermometer. "Eight to twelve hours anew," he passed the thermometer to Palmer. "I know that look, Jethro."

"What look?"

The doctor rose up. "Restless. Very similar to the one you had on when you were chasing Ari." Gibbs expression told him it was better not to go that way.

Ducky stared at him but eventually gave up, knowing it was worthless, and turned back. "Mr Palmer, there's nothing else we can do. You can bag her now."

* * *

"Cynthia?"

"Yes, madam?" came the voice of her assistant from the other side of the phone.

"Are Agent Gibbs and his team back yet?"

"Yes they are, madam," Cynthia was grateful that the Director wasn't able to see her tiny smile. She had always asked that, but not as often as during the past week. "I believe they're down at the lab."

"Ok. Thank you." Jenny hung up the phone and went back to work. Or at least she tried to. Her concentration that morning seemed to be everywhere but on the reports in front of her. Despite her efforts not to worry about the test, it was being hard to put it away from her mind.

A week and a couple of days was a very short amount of time, she was perfectly aware of that. But her silly hope that it could come back positive had taken over her almost unconsciously. And she couldn't even tell if her menstruation was late or not since, without taking the birth control pill, she had always been irregular at most.

"Shit," she muttered, tossing the file on her desk. "Great work, Jenny. Now you can't even work."

Her fingers went to the discarded file and she opened it again, adjusting her spectacles. A sigh escaped from her as she searched again for the line she had been reading a minute ago. Thankfully, that was the last paragraph. She scribbled her signature mechanically at the bottom of the sheet and threw it at the pile on her right, instantly grabbing another from the pile at her left. A grin appeared at her lips when she read the name of the agent who had written that report. Anthony DiNozzo was sure that she had no idea about the latest bet running through the agency. But she had always been much more informed that he thought and knowing that her agents have been wasting their wages that way had afforded her a some amusement. And DiNozzo certainly didn't know that, if it wasn't for her, he would be at the hospital recovering from a concussion caused by a harder than usual headslap.

Gibbs too had been hopeful about the test. Even more that she would have expected. But for him time didn't have the same meaning as for her… Jenny shook her head. She had promised to herself that those thoughts were over. But even so, she wanted the answer as quickly as possible. She had to try a test per day.

A new thought crossed her mind. She almost berated herself for not remembering it already. A blood test. A blood test would give her a more accurate result. And all she had to do was take the lift to the Autopsy Room. But then she saw the flaw in her idea. It would probably also show what she didn't want anyone else to know.

Jenny leaned back on her large chair. There could be a way of doing it without taking unnecessarily risks. It would require some scheming, but it was doable.

* * *

"English please, Abs."

Abby took a deep breath and explained it all again, leaving out the periodic table and the chemical nomenclature. "Clarice Murphy died of atropine poison just like the other victims, Gibbs. But this time, I could take a better sample from the poison. And I can tell you, our killer is using rotten atropine."

"What do you mean?" Tony asked. "He forgot to check the 'best before' date?"

"You can say that. The atropine was in a very deteriorated state."

"And the samples from the other victims?" Gibbs proceeded.

"Well, I couldn't isolate a sample as good as the one I took from Clarice Murphy. But I can cross the chemicals elements from every sample and see if I get a match."

"Do it."

"Why you weren't able to take a better sample from the first two?" Ziva asked. "If they were killed and found roughly at the same time… Shouldn't there be the same amount of poison in their blood?"

"Yes. But that's not carved in stone, I mean… Clarice Murphy probably had a slower metabolism, so her body absorbed enough atropine to kill her, but not all of it."

"A clue, at last. I had nothing from the vigilance tapes." said McGee .

"What? The woman was dropped right in the middle of the vestibule!" Tony blurted out. "It was indoors this time."

"And an inside job. The camera goes black at around 2200."

"How's that possible? And nobody finds it weird?"

"I talked to every person in charged of the footage vigilance. That camera had been given a few troubles and was going to be replaced this week. Nobody cared when it switched off."

"How convenient…"

"McGee's right," Gibbs interrupted. "This is an inside job."

"Not that anyone thought otherwise," Ziva added. "But we still don't know how he picks his victims… As far as we know, they have nothing in common…"

"Blonde hair," Tony pointed.

"Did Clarice Murphy's neighbours or friends say anything about the clothes she was found with?"

"No, Boss. Like the other two, the clothes weren't hers and they don't recall ever seeing her with a French Twist. The guy certainly holds a grudge against the fifties, either that or some sick cherished love."

"This is what intrigues me the most. The clothes, the hair, the make-up…" Ziva thought for a few seconds. "Can it be applied when the atropine began to show its effects?"

"Don't think so. It causes so many side-effects, like nausea, blurred vision, photophobia, and in many cases, hallucinations," Abby assured. "Hard stuff."

"Abby, what is atropine used in?" Gibbs recalled.

"Lots of things. Even in eye products."

"Great. Let's confiscate every contact lens case and eye drops in the Base…"

"Not that, DiNozzo. But Probie's going to ask for a warrant and we're going back to Quantico and search for any old atropine."

"What, right now? What about lunch?"

"Grab some snack and eat during our way."

* * *

Jimmy Palmer, waiting, turned another page of the magazine. As he heard the sound of the door sliding he hurriedly hid it in the desk's drawer.

"I'm sorry, Dr Mallard, but there's nothing to do and-" he cut himself short when he saw who had actually entered. "Director Sheppard. Dr Mallard is…"

"Having his lunchtime. I know that." Reliable Ducky was always eating at this hour.

"So…"

"It's you I wanted to talk to." Jenny smiled kindly at his confusion.

"Me?" Palmer sounded even more perplexed.

"Yes. Can I have a seat?"

"Yes, of course."

She sat by the desk with Palmer on the other chair.

"What can I do for you, Director?"

"A blood test," she said simply.

"A blood test?" he repeated, surprised.

"Yes."

"Is everything alright, madam?"

"It is."

"Are you sure you don't want to wait for Dr Mallard? I'm a medical trainee, I don't usually - '"

"I am. I just need you to take the blood."

"But Dr Mallard would certainly…"

"Let's leave Ducky out of this, shall we?"

Palmer nodded, still thinking that the Director was acting very oddly. He just hoped she was not getting him in trouble, even if she was the chief. He rose from his chair and went to the drawers where the medical equipment was stored, returning with a syringe and a tourniquet.

"Which arm?"

Jenny rolled up the sleeve from her left arm, since she was right-handed.

"Too tight?" Palmer asked, fastening the tourniquet and looking for her veins.

"No, that's ok." The needle pierced her forearm and the blood began to flow into the plastic tube.

"Please hold this, madam," Palmer said as he pressed a piece of cotton over the needle. She did so and he removed the needle, then waited a bit before unfastening the tourniquet as well.

Jenny rubbed her forearm, still holding the cotton over the tiny puncture. "There's no need for that," she said resolutely as she saw Palmer on the other side of the room, preparing to print a label to the test.

"With all due respect madam, but a few months ago there was some confusion about incorrectly labelled exams, so I-"

"There's no need for that," she repeated sternly.

Palmer suppressed the urge to shrug his shoulders and once more pleaded that it wouldn't get him into trouble. "And now?"

"Just give it to me. I'll take it to the lab."

He handed her the stoppered vial, asking no more questions.

"Thank you."

Abby rarely took lunch breaks, and with Gibbs and his team out, Jenny could be sure she was alone. None of the other teams hovered around her lab as much as Gibbs'. And the head banging music could be heard almost from the Autopsy room, which was a guaranteed sign that no-one else would be there.

As expected, she found her sitting in front of the main computer. Resisting to the urge to switch off the music, Jenny tried to call her.

"Abby?" Her voice was no match for the insanely loud music. The second "Abby?" had no answer either, so her finger went to the audio device, turning it off.

Abby promptly turned on her chair. "Who the hell… Director!?" Her reaction was not very different from Palmer's, making Jenny wonder about her reputation.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Abby. Are you busy?"

"Yes. I mean… No… Well, maybe a bit… but not for you, Director."

"I need to ask you a favour."

"A favour?" Abby wasn't quick enough at hiding her reluctance. The last time the Director had asked a favour from her, she had spent her Saturday running a search that the other woman later tried to erase.

"Yes." Jenny showed her the vial. "Run this for me."

Abby stared at the vial. "Blood?"

"Yes. Mine."

"Is… is everything alright?"

"Yes." As with Palmer, Jenny didn't know if she was lying or not. "Just do it for me, will you?"

"Of course. Regular blood test?"

"No. There's no need to waste money. Just run it for one thing."

"What's that?"

"HCG."

Abby eyes opened wide. "Human chorionic gonadotropin?" she heard herself saying.

"Yes."

"That's a…"

"I know."

Abby nodded silently and headed towards the balcony, where she searched for the adequate chemicals to add to the blood.

"And… Abby?"

"Not a word about it. Right?"

"Yes."

"It's going to take a couple of hours. I'll tell you as soon as I get the results."

"I'll be in my office the entire afternoon." Jenny went over to Abby, who was programming the centrifuge. "Thank you."

_I love reviews :)_


	15. Poisons and Printouts

_A/N: Sorry for such a late update, everything got in the way these last weeks, but now I'm back. Hope you enjoy! Darling, once more, thank you._

* * *

"For how many centuries have the people in this base been throwing things into this room?" Ziva asked the moment their torches illuminated the store room. The shelves were so full of every sort of boxes and material that it was impossible to see the other side. The floor wasn't very different either. Some of the boxes had probably fallen from the shelves during the years and its contents were now spread on the floor. The broken light switch clearly indicated there was no light.

"What a sty! And it probably has rats!" DiNozzo grumbled while the light beam of his torch wandered through the room.

"I guess you'll need thicker gloves then," Gibbs deadpanned.

Both Ziva and DiNozzo grimaced at him.

"I believe there are some in the van," he added, switching off his torch and heading for the doors, leaving his two agents looking at the shelves in disgust.

"No way I'm going through all that marine garbage!" DiNozzo exclaimed the moment Gibbs disappeared.

"I guess you have to, Tony."

"Where's McGee when you need him? This is a Probie's work, not a Senior Agent's!"

"Examining that broken down camera."

"Nice. I hope it has just a quarter of all the bacteria stuck inside this room."

"You are a mean man, Anthony DiNozzo."

"Nah. Did you hear that?" Tony's eyes wandered around them.

"What?"

"I could swear I heard rats moving!"

"It's just your imagination."

"Like it was in that ghost ship, you mean?"

"I always said there was something else on that ship, remember? Oh, go to hell. No, hang on. Go get the thicker gloves instead."

"Who's the Senior Agent in here, _Officer _David?"

"Who's got the combat skills?"

"Fine. Let's decide this as grown-ups. Rock-Paper-Scissors!"

* * *

Jenny had found a wonderful way of entertaining herself while waiting for Abby to show up with the results. Report reading had been pushed aside, since it only made her stare at the clock every time she reached the end of the paragraph. Gibbs would certainly be grumpy if he knew that she was muscling in on his case, but she didn't care. Investigation had always been her favourite work in the agency.

In front of her, spread onto the desk, was a Quantico Base blueprint she had printed earlier, marking the three bodies' dumping areas. A big red triangle united them and she was now concentrated on the area inside it. But it covered a large part of the base and very diverse facilities, offices and even a garden and part of the training area.

"The places must be significant…" she muttered to herself. "You wanted them to be found, didn't you? That's why you dumped them with such audacity… Nice, now I'm talking to myself. Whoever said that this job would get me insane was right."

Distracted, she reached for a pencil in her desk and bit the end of it. Her other hand fetched the case file and she took out the victim's photos, placing them on top of each crime scene marked on the blueprint.

The outfits were intriguing her and she was certain that there weren't picked randomly, but she couldn't figure them out. A question crossed her mind and she turned to the file, looking for the answer. She turned the pages quickly until she found the analysis of the victim's clothes. She read the description and grabbed the nearest photo, looking at it closely.

Moved by a hunch, Jenny turned to her computer and ran a search in both Google and NCIS search engine.

* * *

"C'mon Ziva, give me a hand here!" Tony shouted, trying to stop a large box from falling onto his head.

"What, again?"

"The damn place is falling apart!"

Ziva rolled her eyes and jumped off the shelf she had been hanging from, trying to reach the top.

"Look on the bright side. I'm sure all your dear mice have fled by now, scared by all this noise." She placed her hands on the bottom of the box, securing it.

"Right, now help me put it on the floor."

Ziva was about to do so when she felt her gloves getting wet. "Damn, it's leaking someething!"

The box hit the floor with a small bang as Ziva removed her hands.

"Be careful, it could be evidence!" Tony admonished.

"Switch your torch on."

He did as she said. The light beam illuminated her face.

"Point it there."

"What's that?" he asked as he saw some liquid in her now discarded gloves.

"Don't know."

"Better go wash your hands, no? We've got no idea of how long that crap's been stored here."

"Or what that crap is. Back in a moment."

As Ziva left, Tony turned his attention to the box. Luckily, it wasn't leaking at the top, just at the bottom. He opened it and pointed the light inside. A smell of old materials and humidity quickly reached his nostrils.

"Lovely…" He slid his glove-covered hand and grabbed the nearest object, bringing it to the light. At first sight it looked like a package but the years had faded the letters and the colours, forcing Tony to take another one from the box. This one was pretty deteriorated as well but at least he could read the label, and he recognised it at once.

"So, what have you got?" Ziva's steps echoed in the store room as she came back.

"How's your hands?"

"Fine, it didn't get through the gloves. What's that?"

"A lot of old Mark I NAAK. Do you know what that is?"

"Those antidote kits, right?"

"Yeah."

"Haven't they been replaced already?"

"Yes, these are probably rotting since Basic Instinct came out. What a mess…"

"Tony…" Ziva called, suddenly seriously.

"Yeah?"

"What kind of drugs was in those kits?"

"I don't know… What, you think that…"

"Call Abby now and ask her."

* * *

The phone rang as soon as the printout was ready, giving Abby no time to read it.

"Yeah? Tony?"

"_Abby, I need a favour."_

"Of course you do. Fire away."

"_The Mark I NAAK kits, you know them?"_

"Yeah, I do. What about them?" Abby secured the mobile phone between her chin and her shoulder, freeing her hands to get the printout.

"_I need to know what they're made of. The components."_

"Alright, give me a few moments," she dropped the phone and the paper near the computer and reached for the keyboard, typing hastily.

"Nerve Agent Antidote Kit, better know as Mark I NAAK, show me your secrets… eh!" she grabbed the phone again. "Tony, you there? Right, there are a lot of components in the kits medicines but I'm sure you only want to hear about one. Atropine sulphate."

On the other side of the line, Tony whistled.

"The atropine sulphate is used against some toxic chemical substances."

"_Or innocent marine's wives."_

"Bring me a sample. But are you sure you've found the right atropine? Don't forget that the one I took from Clarice Murphy was rotten."

"_You don't get more rotten than this one here, trust me."_

"Sample me then." Abby's eyes finally wandered to the paper next the computer, grabbing it.

"_I will. See ya, Abs."_

"Tony, wait!" she called, staring at the paper in front of her.

"_Yeah?"_

"Add fifty bucks to my bet."

* * *

Gibbs frowned as his mobile phone rang for what seemed like the Nth time that day but a quick look at the caller's ID softened him. Leaving McGee busy with the camera, he exited the building.

"Gibbs. I hope you just called to say that you miss me."

"_Actually, no. But I do miss you."_

"So whom am I talking to? Jenny or the Director?"

"_Don't mock me, Jethro. I have information for you. About the case."_

"What?"

"_I'll go straight to the point. In 1957 a young woman was found dead at the base."_

"And what does it have to do with my case?"

"_She died of atropine poisoning."_

"What're you suggesting? That we have fifty year gap in these murders?"

"_I don't know. But something tells me that they're related. Somehow."_

"Tell me about that murder."

"_Christine Andersen, aged twenty three, found dead at her own house. The picture took in '57 is old, but I could see a resemblance to your victims."_

"Wait a minute, what was that name again?"

"_Christine Andersen. Ring any bells?"_

"Not particularly, but I know someone who might."

"_Good."_

"And, Jen? How did you get to this?"

"_I read in the case file that the clothes found on the victim's, besides not being theirs, were pretty old. I just wondered if they belonged to someone else, someone the killer knew and was important to him in some twisted way. It lead me to think that these might not be his first murders, so I just ran a search about occurrences in the base from 1950 to 1970. This was the only one that struck me as similar."_

"So you've been muscling in on my investigation?"

"_Bye, Jethro. See you later."_

* * *

Jenny put the phone down. So typical of Gibbs, to complain instead of thanking her.

A knock on her door called her attention. "Yes?"

"It's Abby. Madam."

"Come in." Jenny felt a sudden turn in her stomach.

Abby appeared in the doorway, holding a file.

"Don't just stay there, come inside." Jenny pointed her to one of the chairs across her large desk. "Just close the door behind you."

Abby did what she said. "I have your results, Director."

Jenny accepted the file and promptly opened it.

"I… have to go back to the lab, madam," Abby stammered.

Jenny just nodded, barely hearing the door being closed. Her eyes were wandering through the paper. Since she had been tested for just one thing, it didn't take long to find what she wanted.

She read it twice, just to make sure. And then a third time. Only then did those few words seem to make sense. 'Positive for Human chorionic gonadotropin.'

A wide smile appeared in her face and she leant back in her large chair, suddenly feeling such happiness as she hadn't felt for a very long time. Her first impulse was to phone Gibbs and tell him, but soon she realised it would be worth the wait just to see his expression. And she wanted to savour the moment just for a little longer.

Her hand reached for the discarded printout and she read it again, just to make sure she hadn't been mistaken. Relieved that she wasn't, Jenny let her mind wander to things that she had been denying herself for the past fifteen years.

_Reviews are food to my writing soul. :)_


	16. Questions and Bourbon

_A/N: Thank very much to everyone who reviewed, your kind words are always appreciated. Once more, thank you my love for the beta reading. You know how I've improved in these months. Enjoy the chapter!_

"Gunnery Sergeant Karl Andersen…"

The man in front of him seemed much more bored than actually worried about why he was being interrogated.

"Yes, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs opened the file McGee had given him just before he entered into the interrogation room. "Born in 1950 at Bethesda Naval Hospital; father, Lieutenant Christopher Andersen, mother, Moira Andersen née Silverman-"

"Is there any particular reason you're reciting my personal file, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs didn't answer, his eyes rolling through the file. "Impressive curriculum, Gunnery Sergeant… "

"Thank you. May we go straight to the point now?"

"Yes, we may. Christine Andersen. Remember her?"

The man looked up at him. "Of course I do! She was my sister. And she's been dead for the past fifty years so I really don't see the point-"

Gibbs approached the desk and dropped the file onto it. "Could you enlighten us about how she died, Gunnery Sergeant?"

"What is going on here?"

"It was a simple question."

"I want a lawyer."

Gibbs sat on the chair, staring at the man. "You're entitled to. But while he doesn't arrive, you can answer my question. Either that or I'll have to do it myself."

Andersen was staring back at him, not phased in the least. "She ingested something that was contaminated. Now could you tell me-"

"What was it?"

"I don't know, I was barely a child!"

"The coroner's report was quite clear. Atropine poisoning."

"If you say so."

"You were one of the persons who had access to the crime scenes. You saw the bodies and you knew all the details of the investigation. Now tell me; didn't it strike you, not even once, the resemblance between these murders and your sister's death?"

"I didn't see the point, since it all happened five decades ago."

"So, it's common to poison people at the Base? And always with atropine?"

"Are you trying to provoke me, Agent Gibbs?"

"No, I'm wondering why you concealed important information on a murder investigation!"

"Because there's no relation at all!"

"What makes you so sure of it?"

"Christine's death was an accident. A sad one, I'm afraid. She got her medicines confused and took the eye drops instead of her tonic. That's all."

"Well, let's see."

"What do you mean?"

"We're going to dig up your sister."

"What?!"

"An exhumation."

"On what grounds?"

"Possible connection to the actual murders. I thought I'd made it clear."

Andersen was now looking rather apoplectic. "You've got no right to… to disturb…"

"Afraid we might find anything we shouldn't?"

"Of course not!"

"So, we're done here. You're free to go."

"You haven't heard the last from me Agent Gibbs! My lawyer will-"

"Gunnery Sergeant Andersen, I'd leave now if I were you."

"There goes a very pissed off man…" Tony remarked from the other side of the glass as Andersen left the interrogation room, his expression leaving no doubts.

"DiNozzo, Ziva," Gibbs appeared on the doorway.

"Yes, Boss?"

"Go together with Ducky and Palmer to the graveyard. McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"Find all the information about the Andersen family around the time Christine died."

"Right, Boss."

"A good exhumation is always my favourite way of spending a night…" Tony trailed off as Gibbs disappeared.

"I'll drive," Ziva said by his side. "Want to grab some pizza on our way or are you afraid you may throw it up later?"

"You'll need more than an exhumation to keep an Italian man from his pizza. Bye, Probie. Have fun with your search."

"I will. Much more pleasant than…"

"Yeah, I know. Lead the way, _Zee-vah_!"

"I was wondering if I'd ever get to see you today," Jenny said as she heard her office door opening.

"How did you know it was me?" Gibbs asked, closing it behind him.

"Everyone else knocks first, remember?"

"Ah, right."

"I heard you brought someone in for interrogation."

"Yeah, Gunnery Sergeant Andersen."

"Andersen as in… Christine Andersen?"

"Her brother."

"And…?" Still looking at him, she bent and opened one of her desk drawers, grabbing a paper from inside.

"Complete waste of time."

"I see. Nothing useful then?"

"No," Gibbs approached her desk, grabbing a seat. "I'm on my way to the exhumation of Christine Andersen, Ducky's already gone. I just wanted to see you first."

Jenny sighed, her fingers playing with the printout under the table. "So, I'm probably not going to see you tonight?"

He just shrugged in response.

"Ok, then. But before you go…" she handed him the printout, her fingers driving it over the desk top all the way to him.

Gibbs grabbed it quickly, his eyes wandering over it. "What am I supposed to find here?" he asked after a few seconds, still convinced it was case-related.

"Read it again."

He did as he was told, but it didn't change anything. "What the hell is this Human chorionic thing, Jen?"

"Jethro, you're completely hopeless."

"Care to explain?"

"That's a pregnancy test."

He gazed back to the paper. "Yours?"

"Of course it's mine."

"It says… positive… here."

"I know," Jenny couldn't help but grin at him. His perplexed expression was quite priceless.

"So…?"

"I'm pregnant, Jethro."

"But this morning we… Let me get this right-"

"That's a blood test. More accurate. I made Abby test it for me this afternoon."

"She didn't get suspicious?"

"Oh, she must. But I don't care. Jethro?"

"Hum?"

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

He finally stopped staring at the printout and smiled at her. "Jen, you… I wasn't expecting, that's all," he inhaled sharply. "I'm still… processing… it."

"But you're not-"

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I'm not… happy about it. I am. But… well, this was sudden and in the middle of the… case, this was the last thing I was-"

"I know. And I understand," she rose from her chair, the distance between them starting to get awkward. She sat on his lap, putting her arms around his neck. His hands instantly travelled up her back, caressing her.

"I guess I'm getting too old for this," he said, his smile now wider.

"Don't worry, I'm aware of th- ouch, Jethro!" He had pinched her arm, soft and playfully. Before she could protest any further, he cupped her chin and placed a tender kiss upon her lips.

"So, he must be really tiny, right?" Gibbs asked after they parted. "It's barely over a week since…"

"Why are you so quick to assume it's a 'he'?"

"It's a man thing."

"Of course it is. But yes. And I've already phoned my doctor in the Bethesda. He's going to see me next week."

"You're fast. So even your doctor knew before me?" he said, pretending to sound hurt.

"Well, Abby knew even before him."

"Did she mention anything?"

"No, not at all."

"Good. I don't want DiNozzo knowing my personal life ahead of me."

"Speaking about DiNozzo… aren't you late for the-"

"Probably."

"You must go then."

"The Director's side is winning over you, Jen?"

She leaned and kissed him. "I long to celebrate as well, Jethro. But now, off with you."

"Fine. I know when I'm not wanted," he bantered, lifting her to her feet and getting up too.

"Before you go, I think you might need something that I happen to have here."

His eyes gained a mischievous twinkle. "And what is that?"

"Wipe that smile off your face, because it's just…" Jenny went to her drinking cabinet, "… a good glass of bourbon, to see you regain the colour on your face before you go. You're looking as pale as a ghost."

"You're exaggerating, Jen."

"Go take a look in the mirror then." She handed him a freshly-poured glass. "Drink it and take the bottle with you, that's too much of a temptation for me. And take it to _your_ house since I don't want to find it in my basement or lying on my coffee table."

"Yes, madam," he mocked before taking a long sip. Somehow, she had hit the spot. The drink was all he needed to pull himself together after the news. "You're planning on working late?"

"Don't know."

"I better find you peacefully asleep in your bed instead of sitting behind that desk when I get back from the graveyard, Jen."

"Already bossing me around?"

"I know you. Too well. And get some dinner. Proper dinner."

"Enough, Jethro. I might be a workaholic, but from now on, I'm a responsible one. And now get out of here, you're more than late already."

He sighed, resigned. Pulling her to him, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear tenderly. "Maybe if I don't arrive too late we can still celebrate today…"

"That'd be lovely. But quite unlikely. Anyway, come to my place when you're finished."

"I will. And Jen?"

"Yes?"

"Take care, alright?"

She nodded in response. "Don't worry."

His arms held her in an affectionate embrace.

_Review please! :) _


	17. Delays and Mishaps

_A/N: Sorry everyone, this chapter took longer to be uploaded t__han I initially thought, but my beta reader has been very busy and so have I. Can't wait for holidays! Anyway love, thank you very much once more, even with your busy schedule you found a way to correct my work. _

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* * *

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Gibbs found the house in completely darkness. Not that he had been expecting anything else, since it was four o'clock in the morning. Even so, he hoped that she was actually sleeping in her bed and not on her desk at NCIS headquarters. Not bothering much about proper parking, he just stopped the car in front of her house and got out.

The spare key opened the door and he remembered on time not to be noisy. He closed the door gently and realised that he didn't even need to switch on the lights to be able to go up the stairs without stumbling on something. Barely two weeks practically living in her house and he was already feeling at home.

As in every old house, the steps creaked under his feet despite all his efforts. His hand found the handrail, guiding him through the darkness. With a last creak from the wood, he reached the next floor.

The bedroom door was closed and he turned the doorknob carefully, getting inside. The lamp on her bedside table was switched on and he found a report tossed onto the bed. Smiling, he grabbed it and put it on the bedside table. She had had to take work home.

Gently, so as not to wake her up, he sat onto what was now his side of the bed, his eyes immediately resting on the sleeping woman near him. Concern hit him once more. It had been happening all through the night.

* * *

He had ended up agreeing with her mad scheme after all. He knew perfectly well what he was doing and, honestly, he had enjoyed every bit of their reunion. He even chastised himself by not trying it earlier; trying it properly.

The way she rushed things had annoyed him, he could not deny it. But now it had happened. He would become a father again in a few months.

She had gotten worried about his reaction hours ago and he had assured her that everything was fine. And it was. He had played along and he knew the consequences. But he still needed to get used to the idea, in his own time.

Waking her up looked like a very cruel thing to do, as she slept so peacefully. So he just removed his shirt and trousers, switched off the lamp and laid near her, trying to get all the sleep he could.

"Nasty, Probie. I think that sums it up." Tony leant back on his chair. "Ducky and Palmer must be downstairs, having fun with the bones. Kind of a jigsaw for them."

"It was cosy in here, Tony, you know? While you were freezing your arse off in that graveyard, I just stayed here, in the warm bullpen, surrounded by all the chocolate candies in the ven-"

"Yeah, I get the picture. You found anything useful at least?"

"Not really. Just waiting for Gibbs to show up."

Tony gave a quick look to his watch. "Late again, is he?"

"It's not 0800 yet," said Ziva from her desk.

"Are you his defender now?"

"Of course not! What the hell makes you say that?"

Tony bent over his desk. "No, Boss isn't late, no, boss is not banging the Director, no…" he mimicked, exaggerating her speech.

"Do you want the whole bullpen to hear you?"

"Relax, Ziva, everybody thinks the same."

"I'm not the one who needs to relax. It's not me risking my neck right now."

"Spoilsport."

"I think Gibbs will have a different opinion."

"Spoilsport and a squealer, aren't we?"

"Piss off, Tony."

"Can't. I'm nailed to my desk by sheer Duty."

"I'm very sorry to interrupt your cheerful conversation lads, but I need to have a word with Gibbs. And you, of course."

"Join the queue then," Tony replied as he swivelled his chair towards the doctor, who was standing by McGee's desk.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm afraid Gibbs hasn't arrived yet, Ducky," Ziva explained.

"No? But it's already…"

"0758."

"I appreciate the detail, Timothy."

"Anything you can tell us about the body before Gibbs gets here?" Tony asked.

"Well, after fifty years six feet under, I feared that nothing of Miss Andersen had lasted long enough for us."

Ziva's eyes moved away from the computer's screen. "What do you mean? You couldn't take any sample…"

"Blood was out of the question, of course. Luckily, the soil helped a bit. It was dry, preserving the majority of the wooden coffin, so I did find some hairs, which is pretty much what I was hoping for. I'll hand the sample over to Abby as soon as she gets here. Must be arriving, probably."

"That's great. For a moment there I thought we'd dug up the poor girl for no reason," Tony remarked.

"I must return to Autopsy. Will you inform Gibbs when he arrives?"

"Of course. Don't worry, Ducky," McGee assured him.

"And by the time he gets here, maybe we can give him Abby's results too..." sighed Tony as Ducky when to the lift. "I'd go out for a coffee, but last time I did he just came out of nowhere. I don't feel like tempting fate again. Maybe I'll just venture the coffee machine."

"Good idea. Mine's a double."

"Did I offer my services as the coffee boy, Ziva?"

"C'mon, it won't hurt you."

"No, just soak me and burn me if it slips."

"Mine's a double too," added McGee.

Tony rose to his feet. "Your aces then. Yeah, did you really think I was going to support your caffeine vice? C'mon, I want those dimes showing up now."

McGee handed him the money while Ziva tossed hers in his general direction. "Very ladylike."

"Double, don't forget," she answered, pretending she hadn't heard him at all.

* * *

"Shit!" was the first thing Gibbs heard.

"What?" he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep.

"It's 0810 already," came Jenny's reply. "We overslept."

He rose on one elbow, rubbing his face with his other hand, as trying to wipe all the sleep away.

"I can't believe I didn't hear the alarm clock," she went on, speaking more to herself than to him. "I must call Cynthia. Where the hell is my mobile? Have you seen it, Jethro?"

"No."

"I must have left it... somewhere over here," Jenny pulled off every drawer of her bedside table, searching for the missing device. "Shit, where's the damn thing? Ring me, Jethro."

"I've got to find my own first," he complained. As he pulled the covers away, the mobile phone slipped from a fold in the duvet, landing on the floor with a bang.

"Damn, I hope it's not broken," Jenny bent down, grabbing the phone from the floor and trying to switch it on. "It's working!"

"What a pity."

She slapped his arm softly as she looked for her office number. "Cynthia? Yeah, it's me. I'll be late, I'm afraid… No, I intend to be there in an hour, no more… Alright, then." She hung up, turning to Gibbs. "Get up at once."

"You're supposed to calm down now, remember?"

"That doesn't mean skipping work."

"Did you have an important appointment?"

"No. Not today."

"Well, I had. So let me be the one to stress out."

"What're you missing?" Jenny began to rummage through her wardrobe.

"Christine Andersen's autopsy."

"Oh, of course." She appeared in the room again, carrying a white blouse and a black pencil skirt. "How did the exhuma… Wait, you were supposed to wake me up when you got here, weren't you?"

He just shrugged. "You looked so peaceful, I thought it better not to disturb you." He rose from the bed and went to her. Jenny was now rifling through her dresser, looking for a pair of stockings. His arms surrounded her waist, pulling her to him. "But I'm still looking forward for that celebration."

She smiled as his lips hovered over her neck, kissed a sensitive spot, made her moan loudly. "Let me go, Jethro."

His hands found the way to her breasts, considerably reducing her willpower. "C'mon, Jethro…" she heard herself say in her least convincing voice.

He released his hold oh her and stepped back, rising his hands in mock surrender with a smirk playing on his face. "Ok, ok."

Despite herself, Jenny turned around and pulled him back to her, her lips founding his.

"Who's delaying now?" he teased between the kiss.

"Shut up, Jethro. For the first time in my life I'm actually considering calling in sick."

"Really? That's unheard of," he breathed in her neck as his tongue played with her earlobe.

"And I'd make you call in sick too, because there was no way you'd leave me here on my own. But we can't."

He sighed heavily as the realisation of her statement hit him. "I know."

Jenny smiled, her fingers caressing his cheek. "But I never expected you to be so eager about skipping work…"

"It's good to see that I can still surprise you."

Her smile got wider for a few seconds, until she got back to business. "Come on, let's get under the shower. I said I'd be there in an hour."

"Not thinking about skipping breakfast, are you?"

"I'll grab something when I get there."

"On our way is better. You must eat properly."

"Right. On our way then."

* * *

"Abigail?"

Abby was taking some printouts from the top of the counter and putting them together. "Ducky!" she said, turning on her feet. "I'm sorry, I'm just tidying up the place a bit, it's getting too messy for me."

"May I?"

"Of course, come in."

"I've got the hair sample from Christine Andersen."

Abby dropped the papers on her desk. "Andersen… which one is that? Oh, right, the exhumed one."

"Yes, indeed," Ducky handed her the hair sample, sealed inside a vial. "I'm rather afraid that fifty years under the ground might have compromised it…"

Abby took the sample and gave it a trained look. "Well, we'll see… and hope it's not." She went to the counter and started mix the hair with some chemicals, cursing under her breath when she noticed she was running low on some. "See? This case is leaving me no time to do things properly." She put the lid back on the vial and moved towards the centrifuge machine, put the vial inside and switched it on. Her eyes fell on a discarded vial of blood sample that was tossed near the machine and her hand instantly reached for it.

"So, Ducky, what did I do to deserve the honour of having you bring the samples to me personally, instead of Jimmy?"

The older man laughed. "I left Mr Palmer in charge of all the paperwork. Believe me, there's lot of it when one is dealing with an exhumation. And kind Mr Palmer has a natural talent for dealing with it, I'm afraid. All I have to do is sign below."

"May I have him too?" Abby asked while securing the vial in her hand, looking around the lab. It would draw too much attention if she just tossed it into the garbage bin with Ducky standing right there. She definitely should have done it the day before, but with all the work from the case and Tony arriving with the atropine sample, she had just taken it off the centrifuge and tossed it aside.

"No, he has exclusivity."

"That's not fair Ducky! I have my share of paperwork too. Especially on court days."

The doctor smiled and prepared his return to the autopsy room. "Well, let's hope the sample is not compromised then."

"I'll tell if it is."

"Thank you, my dear." Ducky was about to turn away when his curiosity got the better of him. "What is that you're holding onto so tightly?"

"This?" Abby tried to look relaxed. "Nothing, just an old blood sample." She flashed the vial quickly just to reassure him.

"Shouldn't it be in the fridge then?"

"Yeah, it should. I'm going to put it there right now."

"Abby?"

"What?"

"That sample is not identified, is it?"

"No, it's not," Abby answered, knowing there was no point in lying.

"Didn't I identify it properly? That can't be, I'm extremely demanding. Did it fall off then? Why didn't you tell me? What case is it from?"

_Abigail Sciuto, what a mess your distraction has landed you in_, she thought while desperately trying to decide what to do next. "Right Ducky, that's not from a case. But I can't tell you either from where is it from."

"I didn't take that sample, did I?"

"I… don't think so."

"Who did, then? Was it taken here?"

"I don't know," Abby couldn't hold a sigh. "I'm so sorry, Ducky, I hate being this way but I'll get in trouble otherwise. Forgive me."

The doctor quickly dismissed her outburst with a small waving of his hand. "I know and I understand your position."

"Thank you. After all, you've been in my place before."

"Do you mean… Yes, I have." Ducky's suspicions arose. "But… was it Gibbs?"

"I promised I wouldn't say a word. But no, it's not Gibbs."

That left very few other choices in Ducky's mind. Just like him a few months before, there weren't very many people for whom Abby would run an illicit test. Still, he thought against being direct. "Was it Tony?"

"I… I'll just nod, alright? I promised I wouldn't say a word of it so technically speaking I'm not breaking the promise, alright?"

"Yes. Tony?"

Abby shook her head negatively.

"McGee then?"

Same answer.

"I doubt it was Ziva… The Director?"

Abby closed her eyes and nodded.

"What was she testing for?"

"Ducky, please! I already feel like a… like… I don't know, a traitor!"

"Very well then." Abby noticed how concern was now marking his features. Concern, and... something else she couldn't identify.

"You're not going to… to tell her, are you?"

"No, don't worry. Your name won't come up."

"But she'll know it was me anyway!"

"Leave her with me, Abigail. You have nothing to worry about."

* * *

_Reviews are a writer's best friends ;) _


	18. Truth and Lies

_A/N: Thank you all once more for all the kind reviews. Cheers everyone!_

* * *

"Enjoying the view?" Jenny leant on the balustrade, joining Gibbs instead of walking to her office. "We really should get some work done today, you know?"

"Look at them," said Gibbs, nodding at his team. "I get a bit late and that lot starts acting like they're on vacation." Jenny suppressed the urge to smile.

Tony was leaning on his chair, arms folded behind his head while his eyes were focused on something going on in his screen. Something that, knowing him, could only be a movie. Across him, Ziva was sitting behind her desk. With her desk phone between her shoulder and chin, she was the only one trying to pretend she was actually working, but the animated chat in Hebraic could be heard even over all the noise of the bullpen. And even though her Hebraic was not what it used to be, Jenny could pick a few words that were certainly not related to any kind of work done by the agency. On the other end, McGee's determined stare at his computer could only indicate that he was in the last stages of a game.

"Planning on sneaking your way towards DiNozzo and slapping him by surprise?" she asked.

"Sounds tempting."

"However you choose to go downstairs, do it quickly. It's almost 0930."

"I will. I just wanted to escort you to your office."

"I think I can manage these ten last steps on my own, Jethro. Bye, see you later," she turned on her feet and went over to her office. Cynthia was, as expected, sitting behind her desk, honing multi-task to an art form as her eyes wandered through her computer screen, her right hand held a phone and her left hand scrabbled something on a post-it.

"Good morning, madam," she managed to say.

"Good morning, Cynthia. How's my schedule?"

"You didn't lose anything madam, don't worry."

"The meeting with SecNAV is today, isn't?"

"Yes… at 1400."

"Ok. Thank you, Cynthia."

"Madam?"

"Yes?"

"Ducky's in there. He's been waiting you for some time."

"Ducky? Did he say what it's about?"

"No. He just said he needed to speak to you."

"Alright then," she finally opened the door to her office, closing it behind her.

Ducky was standing near her desk. For a second, she wondered whether he'd been standing all this time, and then she remembered how he liked to be the perfect gentleman at all times. That included not sitting down in her office while she was out.

"Hi, Ducky. Nice to see you. Have a seat, please."

"Good morning, Jennifer."

She frowned very discreetly. It was no secret that she disliked to be called by her name, but the doctor always liked to call people by their names. Funny that no-one ever called _him_ by his name.

"So…" she pulled back her chair, taking her place behind the desk while he sat on one of the chairs opposite. "Cynthia told me you needed to speak to me."

"I do indeed."

His stern features puzzled her a bit and she started imagining all sort of scenarios, from some next of kin threatening to sue the agency to some kind of major disaster in the Autopsy Room. Since he remained silent, she decided to speak again.

"What is the matter then?"

"Why, in God's good name, did you order a blood test, Jennifer?"

She almost gasped in shock, but years of experience helped her stifle it. Nevertheless, it was the last thing she was expecting to hear. Composing herself, she snapped back.

"That's none of your concern, Dr Mallard."

"I'm afraid it is. How, and even more important, why did you do it? Were you expecting a different result this time?"

"Of course not. As sad as it sounds, I'm resigned with my fate. I'm not expecting any kind of miracle or even a new treatment."

"Then what did you have in mind?"

"Abby went straight to you, didn't she? I should have known better."

"Don't blame Abigail. I just happened to figure it out."

"You don't need to be so protective, Ducky. I don't intend to do anything to her. I thought you knew me."

"I thought so too, but somehow you keep on surprising me, Director."

"I don't like your tone." Calling her by her formal title made her forget they were dealing with a personal issue. "Or your insinuations."

"I'm not insinuating. How did you manage to do it behind my back? The test, I mean."

"Palmer took the blood."

"As I suspected. You tricked him into your schemes then?"

"I'm not plotting any schemes. I just knew you'd react like this, so I went to Palmer instead."

"Very well. And now, speaking as your doctor as opposed to a friend or employee, would you tell me the purpose of said test?"

Jenny stared at him for a while. "Alright," she reached for her handbag and took the folded printout from the inside. She leant on the chair and handed it to Ducky.

The doctor promptly accepted and unfolded the paper. His expression clouded as he read. "What's the bloody meaning of this, Jennifer?"

"You're the doctor," she answered, being purposely dense.

Ducky dropped the paper on the desk, his hand reaching to his face to remove the spectacles. He then wiped his forehead with his hand and eyed her gravely.

"I'm afraid you don't realise the seriousness of this situation…"

"I'm quite aware of it, Ducky. You have no idea how aware I am."

"So, this wasn't… an accident? You did get pregnant on purpose?"

"I'm not sure I like those terms, but yes."

Ducky sighed sharply. "That must have been the most irresponsible thing you've ever done, Jennifer Sheppard."

"I could see that one coming. How predictable."

"Does he know?"

"He?"

"Jethro."

"Why are you so quick to assume that it's Jethro's?"

"You planned all of this. Who else would it be?"

"My life hasn't been restricted to Jethro."

"I didn't intend to muscle in. But I've known you both for a long time. And now that you're facing… what you're facing, I can't imagine you turning to someone else."

"You can say it, Ducky. I won't break. All I want is to finally sort out my life. It may come a bit late, I'm afraid, but it's better than nothing."

"Does he know, Jennifer?"

"What? That I'm pregnant or that I'm dying?"

"Either one."

"The former; yes, of course. The latter; no. And you're not going to tell him."

"Don't you think he has the right to know?"

"Yes, I do. But things are much easier this way. You know Jethro. He can't suffer anymore."

"So you're convinced he's not going to suffer when… when…"

"When I'm not here anymore?"

"Yes."

"He will. But he'll have someone else to think about. To care about. He won't drown in grief again as he did the first time. Not that I'm convinced he likes me the same way as he did with Shannon anyway."

"I knew you could be very cold-hearted but I always thought it was a cover, a protection. I didn't know you two were an item again, but I, as everyone in this place, noticed the change in Jethro in the last couple of weeks. Yes, don't try to argue that he hasn't changed. You can only be trying to fool yourself if you really think that you mean so little to him. I don't know what went through your head when you decided that sorting your life meant leaving a child without a mother and only a bereaved father as company. And don't get me wrong; I would have been the first one to be glad about your reconciliation if it had happened on equal ground. You must tell him."

"It won't happen."

She had expected him to go on and on. But all Ducky did was sigh again, sadly. "I know how stubborn and obstinate you can be. I just wish one day you realise what you're doing."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"No, I will not. It is not for me to do it."

"Very well. I think we're done here."

"Not yet. I'm still your doctor. How far are you?"

"Very little. Two weeks I suppose. It was hard to test."

"Your medication is my main concern, apart from all the rest."

"I've changed it. I went to Bethesda."

He looked surprised. "Did you? What are you taking now?"

She fetched her handbag again and went through it until she found all the medicaments and their prescription, handing it to him.

Ducky adjusted his spectacles and read everything carefully. "Very well. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Nothing different. Tired, but that's not unusual."

"Have you slept and eaten properly? Worked too much?"

"I only found out yesterday. But I intend to. Anything else?"

"I'll want to keep an eye on you."

"You know where to find me."

"Have you thought about the possibility of not being able to carry the child to full term?"

"Of course I have. But at least I'll be able to carry it until a scheduled birth can be performed."

"Is that what you really want? Give birth to a child and not be here to see him... or her... growing up? Not being a part of-"

"Enough, Ducky. Enough."

"You're going down a rough path here, Jennif-"

"I said enough! You may leave now."

He nodded and left without another word. Jenny didn't dare to move until she heard the door closing. Her first reaction was to leave her desk and go over to the large window that adorned the wall near her. Her arms folded maybe a bit too tightly as she felt her own fingernails digging into her flesh whilst she gazed at the navy yard. Her mind was carefully blank in an effort to keep Ducky's words out. As it became more and more difficult she went to the drinking cabinet in search of refuge and a way to dull the pain.

The realisation of her condition hit her after she had just poured herself a glass, and she snapped, smashing it against the floor in a rare moment of lack of control. As she sat on the settee, strangely soothed by the action, she glanced at the splashed liquid, at the tiny pieces of glass scattered around, and at the stain that was rapidly spreading all over the rug.

"I told Jethro he should have taken the damn bottle home," she muttered as she rose again, heading towards the toilet for a towel to clean up the mess. It would be simpler to call Cynthia and ask her to bring the cleaning staff, but she knew her agency too well. In a few hours everyone would be wondering why the Director was drinking during work hours and why it seams she had started smashing things.

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_You all know how much I like reviews, don't you? :)_


	19. Ironed Shirts and Reckless Driving

_A/N: Quick update because I got some extra time to write. Once again, thanks everyone, the reviews have been really kind. Love, thank you for the beta, I don't know what I'd do without you by my side._

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"C'mon Ziva, you can do better than that."

"I don't know. This case is… is… Oh screw it, it's all too much of a mess."

"McProbie?"

McGee sighed and took a printout from his desk. "So, Andersen's sample indicated that she did die of atropine poisoning _but_… the atropine sample doesn't match the ones from the recent murders… and we still haven't figured out how long was the atropine stored for-"

"Tossed and fed to the rats would be more appropriate."

"Right, tossed and fed to the rats then, thank you Tony. Anyway, nobody bothered to register the damned thing."

"Can't Abby figure that out? I mean, she can analyse it, can't she?" Ziva suggested.

"She tried to this afternoon. Too corrupted. According to her, it could have been there for the past fifty to fifteen years, giving the poor condition of the room."

"Any clever ideas during my short absence?" Gibbs asked as he headed to his desk holding a big cup of steaming coffee. "McGee, you seemed to be very talkative."

"Boss, I was just saying… well, nothing you didn't already know, actually."

"So let's focus on what we don't know, right? DiNozzo?"

"What?"

"Share your thoughts with the rest of the class."

"The killer is some crazy, sadistic lunatic with nothing better to do than murdering marines' wives. What? Any of you has a better idea?"

"We've been dwelling on this for… what, one week? No, more than that. I don't know, something must be missing…"

"Of course something is missing, Ziva. Otherwise we'd have someone locked in the cells downstairs," Tony replied from his seat.

"Ziva, Dinozzo."

"Yes, Boss?"

"I want you both at the Base tomorrow."

"What? _Again_?"

"Yes. Again. You'll find everything about Christine Andersen. McGee, you stay here, doing the same. Search and find everything about the family. Go through files, birth certificates, any kind of legal document."

"Right, Boss," McGee nodded.

"Why are we still following this Andersen girl? Besides the fact she's been dead for the past fifty years, everything points to accidental death."

"Since when do I have to tell you my reasons, DiNozzo?" Gibbs finished his coffee and threw the cup in the litter. "And I saw that," he added as Tony shrugged and exchanged a quick look with Ziva. "Let's call it a day then."

* * *

Tonight she didn't even try to work. Instead of heading directly to her study as she did almost every evening, she went to her room. A hot shower helped her get rid of the tensions her body had accumulated during the day but did very little for her state of mind. Her first thought was to lie down on the bed and try to catch all the sleep she could but then she recalled she had to eat something. She couldn't even tell how much time had passed since her last meal.

Clad in her nightgown and housecoat, she went downstairs to the kitchen. After going through the wasteland that her fridge had become, she helped herself to a bit of orange juice and decided on some toasts. Judging by the look and smell of the milk, she didn't even need to check the 'best before' date.

As she waited for the toaster to pop up the two slices of bread she had found, she wondered exactly when it was that she had begun to forget about shopping. More precisely, about sending someone else to do it. In these past few years she'd had little time for those domestic affairs.

She was finishing her improvised meal when she heard the door opening. Wiping the crumbs off her housecoat, she rose from her chair to meet Gibbs in the hall.

"Hi. Tired?"

His arms circled her waist and he just shrugged in reply.

"Someone is still bothered by the case…"

His answer was another shrug.

"Want something to eat? I hope you like buttered toast…"

He laughed lightly. "That's all you have to offer?"

"Don't complain. At least the butter isn't rotten yet."

"I thought your perfect housekeeper took care of everything, including the food."

"So did I. But since I rarely eat at home these days she probably got tired of cooking and seeing it rotten in three days. I didn't even notice she'd stopped."

"Guess tomorrow's breakfast is on me."

"I'll make sure of that." she grabbed his hand. "Since you don't want anything, mind if we go upstairs?"

"Sure."

"Good. I want to lie down."

"You tired?"

"A bit. Standing up all afternoon in MTAC is always tiring."

"Especially when you're wearing those crazy heels of yours."

"Stilettos, Jethro."

"That, yes."

As they got to the room upstairs, she sat on the bed while he went to her dresser.

"What're you looking for?"

"Clothes. I'm running out of them."

"Any particular reason to think they'd be mixed with mine?" Jenny jumped from the bed as she saw the mess he was making. "Jetho, stop! I happen to like ironed clothes!"

"I have to stop by my place to get more," he said as she neatly began to fold everything back.

"Look in the laundry room tomorrow. Noemi must have washed and ironed some of your shirts."

"Really? How nice of her," Gibbs sat on what was now his side of the bed.

"You're starting to realise the wonders of a neat house?" she teased as she closed the last drawer.

He leant against the pillows, folding his arms behind his head. "Be careful, I might get too used to it, you know? Clean, ironed shirts, tidy house-"

"No boats in the basement," she laid by his side, resting her head onto his chest.

His fingers tangled in her hair, playing with it. "You're up for that celebration?" he asked after a bit, his voice low.

"I would, yes… If you weren't in the middle of a case."

His blue eyes questioned her.

"I know you, Jethro. Your mind wouldn't be here. It's better to wait for you to close it and then we can celebrate properly."

"We keep on delaying it…"

"I know. Maybe next weekend, if you have it closed by then. We could even have dinner out. What do you think?"

"And until then… no having our wicked way with each other?"

She couldn't suppress a laugh at seeing his worried face. "Of course not! I was just talking about the celebration."

"Oh. Right then."

"Less worried?" she mocked. He replied with a kiss.

"How're you feeling Jen?" he asked as they parted.

"Fine. And you?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"Because… you complained so much about… my rush. How are you coping with… all these changes in your life?"

"This talk is getting a bit maudlin Jen, don't you think?"

_Yes, it is. Thank Ducky for that_, she thought to herself. "Alright. How's the case going then?"

"Not going, you mean."

"Want to share?"

"Not really."

"C'mon Jethro. We used to discuss every mission back then."

"You weren't my Boss back then."

"You'll never get over it, will you?" despite the lightness of her tone, she was a bit annoyed. And it didn't help that he hadn't answered the question. "Did you get the details of the Andersen autopsy?"

"Yes, Ducky filled me in."

"Atropine poisoning?"

"Yes. But Abby said the sample didn't match the atropine found in the other bodies."

"Dead end again?"

"I hope not. I sent DiNozzo and Ziva to the Base first thing in the morning. I want them to dig out every piece of information about Christine Andersen."

"Based in?"

"My gut."

"Oh, of course. I can imagine their reaction to that."

"I didn't tell them. I just sent them to Quantico."

"How nice of you."

"So I'm a nice guy now? Since when?"

"I tried to find your nice side when I was your probie."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I gave up the second day. But I agree with you."

"About my lack of niceness?"

"No. About Christine Andersen. Somehow she's linked… I just can't see how, exactly. The way she died, the time…"

"Jen?" Gibbs called after she remained silenced for a few seconds.

"What if… if Christine's death inspired all the other murders?" Jenny raised her head to look him in the eye. "That would explain the clothes, the make-up."

She could almost hear him thinking. "We still wouldn't have a motive."

"I know. But… there's been always something twisted about this case, hasn't there? What's usually the point of masquerading a victim?"

"Making her look like someone else."

"Precisely."

"Your gut doesn't work bad either, Jen."

"Thank you. But I prefer to call it brain, if you don't mind. Anyway, make sure Ziva and DiNozzo look into any relationship Christine might have had in the Base. I know it's going to be difficult after fifty years…"

"Do you smell a passionate crime?"

"I don't want to rule it out, no."

"Jen?"

"What?"

"You're muscling in on my investigation. Again."

"Oh, shut up, Jethro."

"Nevertheless, I think I'll phone DiNozzo to make sure he asks the right questions tomorrow. Now, changing the subject a bit."´

"Yes?"

"Do you know why Ducky was so grumpy this morning?"

Jenny felt like sighing in annoyance, but that would have been too revealing. "Was he?"

"Yes. First it took him ages for him to get to the autopsy room after delivering some samples to Abby, according to that Palmer boy. I wasn't going to stand there waiting for him so I went to the lab instead. When he got back, he was grumpy as hell."

"Maybe something to do with his mother. She's the only person who can leave him like that." _Besides me._

"She does get to him sometimes, but not like that, not that I ever saw."

"Well, I don't know then. Maybe it was just a bad day."

Gibbs nodded. His fingers had now left her hair and were busy caressing her cheeks, moving lower to her chin and neck. "It's getting late. You need to rest."

"I thought I was the boss here," she bantered back, not wanting to show how she liked his concern.

He ignored her and carefully rose from the bed, her moans of protest disappearing when he adjusted a pillow under her head, removed her housecoat and gently pulled the duvet over her.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom. A quick shower and I'm back."

"I'll wait for you."

"Sleep, woman. I don't want my child to be born an insomniac."

She smiled at his mention. "Alright. I'll make sure I'm sleeping like a log when you get here." She adjusted the pillow beneath her head. "Goodnight Jethro."

* * *

"Who was it?"

Tony dropped his mobile phone onto the front-seat. "Guess who…"

"Gibbs?" Ziva asked by his side.

"Of course."

"What did he want?"

"For us to interview Gunny Andersen again. Yeah, great; after he pisses the guy off, we have to make the amends _and _get him to spill out his sister's love life." Tony leant and checked the car's clock. "All this before 0800. Do you really have to overtake every damn lorry that happens to be on the road?"

"You're still complaining about my driving, Tony?"

"I'm too young and too good-looking to die smashed by a lorry that's going to deliver spray cheese in Arkansas. Hey, you did that one on purpose!"

"Me?" Ziva asked sweetly as she turned back to the right-side track after overtaking a minibus. "That wasn't even a lorry. So, why the interest in her love life? Did he explain?"

"You wish."

As they reached the base, Tony showed their identification to the privets guarding the gates.

"It was about time they let us park inside," Ziva said as she braked abruptly, causing Tony's stomach to somersault as the safety belt dug painfully into his belly.

"Let's hope they're as cooperative in the interviews," he replied while getting out of the car. "So, start looking for Gunny Andersen…"

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_Don't forget to leave your review! :)_


	20. Flasks and 'Hinkinesses'

_A/N: I really apologise for the delay of uploadings, but my computer, which has been a huge pain in the arse for the past six months, stopped working after a few blue screens of death about two months ago. Despite all my efforts, it's still not working properly yet but I won't give up on it. Until then, I got m__yself one of those tiny laptops and it is slowly becoming my best friend when it comes to writing. Once more, thank you lot for all your kind reviews, I really appreciate them! And thank you my love for the beta-reading! And after such a huge author's note, let's move on the story!_

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"Abby, you've got an extra Caff-Pow?"

"Get your ass off the chair and buy yourself one, McGee!"

"Oh come on, I can't just leave this right now!"

"What makes you think I can drop everything I'm doing and serve as the coffee girl?"

"Because you've been just hovering around and staring at me for the past twenty minutes. I deduce that you're not that busy."

Abby leant against one of the counters. "And that means I'm not busy? I could have been… meditating. Yeah, I could have!"

"The sound of a Caff-Pow being sucked through a straw ruins any chance of concentration and I can tell you had at least two."

"Alright McGee, I'm bored! You haven't brought me anything to process today-"

"It's barely over 0800."

"… and you clearly don't want my help to do… whatever you're doing. I even wonder why you're here downstairs and not behind your fancy desk."

"I'm saving some important data at my computer. You have the Caff-Pow? I'm still feeling sleepy."

Abby walked towards him. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Going through anything that might be related to the Andersen family in the past fifty years."

"Why just the Andersens? What about the rest of the victims?"

"Gibbs' orders. Just the Andersens."

"Anything hinky so far?"

"No. They seem like the average family, apart from Christine's sudden death."

"How did she die? I mean, it was the atropine, right. But how did she take it?"

"She took her eye drops instead of her tonic."

"That was… a bit clumsy, wasn't it?"

"It was a mistake."

"Yeah…"

As she trailed off, McGee finally moved his sight away from the computer. "What?"

"I haven't got much of a clue of how were the flasks back in the Fifties, but a tonic flask is usually bigger than an eye drops flask… Am I making sense?"

"What do you mean? That it wasn't an accident after all?"

"Isn't Gibbs convinced of that?"

"He seems to be. Exhumations, refusal to drop this line of inquiry…"

"What kind of tonic was she taking?"

"I have no clue about that. But Tony and Ziva are at Quantico right now, I'll phone them."

* * *

"Who was it now?"

"McGee. It seems to be call-and-order-us-around day." Tony put his mobile phone back in his jacket pocket and shifted position in his seat. "Where did they go get him? Iraq?"

Ziva also stretched her legs a bit. "What did he want?"

"To know what kind of tonic was Christine having prior to her dead. One more question for dear brother. _If_ he ever shows up…"

"He'd better… I hate being left waiting like this. What're you doing?" she asked as Tony pulled off his notebook.

"Killing time."

"You're still wasting time with those bets?"

"That's where our points of view differ drastically."

Ziva rose from her chair, starting to pace around the room. "How many idiots have you fooled back at the bullpen? This waiting is really getting on my nerves…"

Tony finished scrabbling something. "Why don't you take a look for yourself?" He turned the notebook towards her.

"That's the amount of money you've accumulated?" Ziva asked astonished as her eyes stare at the numbers scrabbled in the page.

"Sure it is. Surprised? Changed your mind about joining the winning side?"

"I can't believe there are so many nosey guys back at the bullpen."

"What can I say? Our Director seems to be a fascinating persona. So is Gibbs."

"I still wonder how you intend to prove yourself right."

"Can't tell you. Would have to kill you then."

"Like I wouldn't do it first."

"See, Ziva? Is that kind of threats that make you so unpopular at the workplace."

"I'm not unpopular!"

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

"Worried?"

"Of course not! I… may not be the most… friendly person there, but I'm a reliable officer. Everyone knows that." She made a brief pause and went back to the ranting. "Where the hell is the man? Is he doing it on purpose?"

"Probably. Thank Gibbs for that."

"Special Agent DiNozzo and Officer David?"

They both quickly turned towards the voice. A privet was staring at them by the door.

"Yes?"

"Gunnery Sergeant Andersen will receive you. Please follow me."

* * *

"What am I staring at, Abs?"

"Images of different flasks."

"I could've managed that on my own, you know?"

"Sorry Gibbs. It's kind of a long story… that telling by the look in your face I'm going to shorten. Basically I had some doubts after McGee filled me in about how Christine Andersen died."

"Doubts?"

"Yeah. He told me she mistook the flasks."

"She did. At least is what her brother claims."

"Well, going straight to the point, I wondered how viable it was. I mean, an eye drop flask usually has a dropper while a tonic flask is taller and larger and one usually uses a spoon to take. Isn't a bit weird not noticing that you're taking your tonic from a dropper? But my main concern was: I had no idea if it was like that fifty years ago. So, I made a few calls. The last one to the American Pharmacists Association. They were quite nice and they provided me with all the images they had. They're mainly from old adverts and stuff like that. Nice, isn't it?"

"Remind me why you're working here downstairs and not in my team?"

"Because I'm the greatest lab tech in the world and you all can't do anything without me?"

"Good answer."

"And I like my cosy lab."

"Can we move back to the flasks?"

"Sure." Abby zoomed the photos a bit. "The photos are old and a bit grainy. These here on the left were used to bottle many sorts of tonics and medical syrups. As you certainly know, many medicines were mixed in the drugstore, including some eye drops. And here on the right we have the eye drops flaks. Guess I don't need pointing to you that they-"

"Don't even look remotely similar. No. But some of the eye drops flasks don't have the dropper incorporated."

"No. But you'd need one as well to take the drops. Still, the opening is much narrower and the flask completely different."

"So, your point is that someone deliberately made her take the atropine?"

"Either that or her eye problem was really severe."

"I'm owing you this one, Abs."

"You know my price. Caff-Pow!" Abby was forced to yell the answer as Gibbs crossed the lab hastily, disappearing through the door. "And there he goes!"

"Hope your idea really pans out," McGee reclined on his chair trying to find some relief to his sore back, "Because there's nothing here."

"Nothing at all?"

"No. Not even a single bit of 'hinkiness'."

* * *

"_Agent Gibbs here to see you, madam."_

"Is he? Well, send him in then," she put the phone's earpiece back on its place and her eyes wandered back to the report. The door opened a few seconds later.

"I'm busy, Jethro. Fire away whatever you've come to ask and piss off."

"Someone's edgy," he teased playfully while taking a seat. "Hormones bugging you already?"

She looked at him over her spectacles. "What do you want, Jethro?"

"To arrange a meeting."

"And what've I got to do with it? You hardly came in here to ask for my permission…"

"Well, kind of…" he trailed off.

"You're expecting me to guess?"

"It's about the case. Abby spotted something that might be important and DiNozzo and Ziva are still at Quantico searching for some answers that may finally shed some light on this mess. I'm pretty sure now is the time for a team meeting to see if we can finally wrap this case up."

"Is it that close?"

"I'm hoping so."

"Great. At last. But I still can't see why you're here telling me this."

"Besides the team, I'd like to have you with us. And Abby and Ducky too, of course."

Jenny tried to disguise her surprise. "Are you feeling well, Jethro? You want my help?"

"More your expertise. And your office."

"My office? Why so? Oh, I see… Do I have to remind you this building has plenty of other rooms? Conference rooms, for that matter?"

"Yours is more peaceful."

"Not when you're around. But alright, you can have the meeting here."

He nodded in response."

"So, at what time?"

"As soon as those two are back from the base."

"Fine. I'll be either here or in MTAC."

"Ok," he rose from the chair. "See you later. And don't even think about skipping lunch."

"You can cut on the nagging."

"Can I? Well, I'll know if you do it. Keep that in mind, Jen."

"How? You've bugged my office?"

"No. I was thinking more about bribing Cynthia. Even she has her price."

"Piss off, Jethro. See you later."

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_Reviews are quite welcomed ;)_


	21. Meetings and Fears

_A/N: Huge chapter this time! Probably the biggest I've ever posted. I'm off to holidays so I can't precise when exactly is going to be the next update. I'll try to post another one before I leave, let's see if I can. Once again, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, added to favourites or simply read this story. And many thanks to my awesome beta-reader, my dear boyfriend. Love you!_

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"Such a nice guy!" Tony exclaimed sarcastically as he and Ziva reached the car. "Another ten minutes locked up in that office with him and I'd have gone crazy."

"You know my answer to that, don't you?" Ziva replied while opening the driver's door.

"Like you weren't almost beating the crap out of him."

"I wouldn't put it quite like that." She looked for the car key inside her pockets.

Tony fetched his mobile phone while buckling the safety belt. "This thing didn't stop vibrating, who the hell… of course. McPain-in-the-neck again. Check yours too. What the hell…?"

"What's the matter now?"

"Quoting Probie: 'Go straight to the Director's office as soon as you get here."

"Why?"

"Doesn't say. Did you screw anything up, Ziva?"

"What? Why me? You're the one making bets about her and Gibbs."

"But she doesn't know that. Does she? Do you think someone snitched on me?"

"As you say here, little boys who play with fire get their toes burned."

"Actually, it's their fingers."

"Fingers? That's why it didn't make much sense… Well, there's only one way to know. Let's return to D.C.," Ziva looked around. "In fact, I'm quite tired of this base…"

"So am I. But before entering the navy yard, stop by the pizza place around the corner. If I'm going straight into the lion's den, I want to have some slices in me. It's already 1400, by the way."

"Very well." She sped up, turned the car and headed towards the exit.

* * *

"DiNozzo and Ziva are on their way, madam," McGee said quietly in the usual darkness of MTAC.

"Thank you, Agent McGee. How long before they arrive?"

"Well, from what I could apprehend, Officer David is the one driving...

"I see. That leaves me with little time on my hands then."

"Do you want me to contact you when they arrive?"

"I hope it won't be necessarily. Thank you very much. You may go now, Agent McGee. Oh, and Cynthia is aware of the meeting, you can go into my office and start preparing everything, if you want to."

"Thank you, madam."

* * *

"Can you imagine yourself sitting behind that chair one day, McGee?"

"Be careful, Abby. You're almost tossing those files onto the ground!"

"Oh, sorry!" Abby, walked away from the large desk. "But you've never thought about it before?"

"What?"

"Becoming the Director!"

"Not really, no."

Abby turned on her feet. "I don't believe you!"

"Our noble Timothy is not that ambitious, Abigail," Ducky remarked from the chair where he was seated near the table.

"Everyone has a tiny bit of ambition, Ducky. Everyone," Abby took a seat nearby the doctor. "Even McGee. Otherwise he wouldn't write those books…"

"I prefer to view them as a hobby."

"I'd like to be the Director. For one day. There's something… sexy about it, you know?"

"Sexy, Abigail?"

"Yeah. You know, to sit behind that desk wearing those Chanel suits-"

"You hate suits, Abby."

"Yes, McGee. I do. But this is different. Still, Chanel suits, Loboutin stilettos-"

"And bureaucracy up to your eyeballs," a voice interrupted from the doorway.

Abby turned on her chair. "Gibbs! You've shattered my dream!"

"More like your nightmare. I've been there last year, remember?"

"Our dear Abigail is a fascinating psychological study," Ducky concluded.

"Want to profile me? That'd be fun!"

"Ziva and DiNozzo not here yet?"

"No, Boss," McGee answered while taking a laptop from inside its case and placing it on top of the conference table.

* * *

Downstairs, Tony and Ziva were staring at the lift numbers, waiting until it finally reached the ground floor.

"Do I smell of pizza?"

"Huh?"

"Do I smell too much of pizza? I don't think it'll win me any points with the Director!"

"I'm not a damn sniffer dog!"

The lift doors opened and they both stepped inside.

"C'mon, Ziva!"

"No way!" She pressed the lift's button and it started moving up. At her side, Tony was making a last attempt at improving his look by hastily combing his hair with his fingers and straightening his shirt.

"Will you please calm down? It's not like it's the first you're summoned to her office!"

"It's not. But I've got no clue about the reason! McGee was having too much fun not telling what the hell is going on!"

"He's learning."

The lift stopped and the doors opened.

"Cynthia's not here," Tony noted as they passed by her desk. "Let's knock then."

Ziva nodded and raised her hand. The door opened almost immediately, revealing an impatient Gibbs on the other side.

"At last!"

"Boss?"

"What're you waiting for? An invitation?"

"What's happening in here? A party?" Tony asked as he stepped inside and found everyone else in the room.

"You wish, DiNozzo. Team meeting," Gibbs closed the door behind them.

"Here?"

"Yeah."

"Does the Director know we're here or is she going to get mad when she finds out?"

"Don't worry, Anthony. Jethro there has taken care of everything," Ducky intervened.

"So, why are we here in the first place?" Ziva asked, still puzzled.

"To solve the case. I thought McGee had filled you in," Gibbs replied, his sight drifting towards his younger agent.

"No. McProbie over there thought it was funnier to leave us in suspense," Tony's side-glance aimed towards McGee as well.

"I wasn't aware of how confidential the meeting was."

"Yeah, right," Tony took a seat by the table. "Looks highly confidential to me."

"Since they're already here, can we start?" Abby asked.

"Not yet. Director's missing. McGee, go get her."

"Right, Boss." McGee closed the laptop and rose from his chair.

"And bring me some candy from the vending machine on your way back!" Tony was about to recline on his seat when he felt a very well-known pain in the back of the head. "Ouch!"

"Do you think you'll need any more reminders that this is a working meeting, not the coffee break?"

"No, don't bother yourself, Boss. I'm a quick learner."

"Good. And don't make yourself too comfortable, you two will be the first to talk. I want to know what you've found at the base."

"Hum… I'm not sure you'd like the direction the conversation kept veering towards…"

"What do you mean?"

Ziva steepled her fingers as she moved forward on her seat. "Gunnery Sergeant Andersen spent half the interview reminding us that he's going to sue the agency. Well, you, more precisely."

"Is he?" Gibbs asked nonchalantly.

"He intends to. He claims you abused your powers on his interrogation."

Gibbs was about to answer when the sound of high heels was heard outside. McGee opened the door and held it for Jenny to pass.

"Good afternoon," she greeted as she walked up to the tabletop where Ducky was already pulling the chair back for her to sit down. She pretended not to see the doctor's hardened expression. If he wanted to act like this towards her, she would pay him back the same way.

She welcomed the relief as she sat down. So many hours standing up in MTAC had left her quite tired. McGee went back to his seat in front of the laptop and Gibbs sat on the opposite end of the table.

"Hey, this is looking like family dinnertime!" Abby exclaimed. "Mummy and Daddy on the top and the kids-uh!" She was forcibly silenced by a poke from Ziva, who was sitting next to her. "Sorry. I got a bit distracted…" she added while massaging her ribs.

"Shall we start?" Jenny asked, before someone else got distracted again. "Agent Gibbs?"

"Yes. Let's go through what we already know. Three victims, possibly four," Gibbs nodded towards McGee who grabbed the plasma's remote. Immediately, a photo of a smiling woman appeared on it. "Laura Carlson," the photos kept changing as he spoke, "Holly Davidson, Clarice Murphy… and Christine Andersen. Allegedly fifty years passed between what we suppose to be victim number one, Andersen, and victim number two, Carlson. M.O, atropine poisoning. We believe the atropine comes from a lot of old Mark I NAAK kits found tossed aside at the Base. Apart from Andersen, all bodies were dressed-up around time of death in an old-fashion way and dumped in easy-to-spot places all around Quantico Base. There have been also inconsistencies, like the camera going black roughly around the time Clarice Murphy's body was left in the Combat Develop Command Building. Anyone wants to add anything?"

"I do," Ducky said. He fetched his autopsy report and its pictures. "Apart from Christine Andersen, to whom I've not performed the autopsy since when she passed away I was just a young lad finishing my medical studies back in Edinburgh, all victims showed signs of small struggle, telling by the defensive wounds. Death occurred around the same time in all the three victims, between ten o'clock in the evening and midnight."

"I think I should add something too," Abby intervened, now in her most professional tone. "From the blood samples that Ducky supplied me, I could tell they've died from the said atropine poisoning. With the third victim, hum… Murphy, Clarice, I found out that the atropine used wasn't in good conditions and later I found a match when Tony, I mean, Agent DiNozzo, brought me a sample from the Mark I NAAK kits from the Base."

"Let's focus on Christine Andersen," Gibbs spoke as she finished.

"What, again?"

"Did I ask for your opinion, DiNozzo?"

"Hum, no…"

"Thought so. Abby found something today besides everything she already talked about. Abby?"

"Right. McGee, the flasks' photos?"

"A minute, please. Ok, here they are," McGee pressed again the remote control.

"What's that?" Ziva couldn't help but ask as she looked at the plasma.

"That's my greatest finding. Want to know about it? Well, early this morning I was dying from boredom in my lab… Oops, sorry Madame Director!" Abby covered her mouth with her hands as she realised she had been caught. "Not that I don't have enough work to entertain myself with, I was just… Better return to the flasks, no?"

"Yeah, the flasks, please, Abby," Tony asked, a discreet glance towards his watch assuring him they would stay locked in there for a considerable amount of time.

Abby nodded and picked the subject up where she had left it, talking about her earlier findings while waving her hands as usual.

"That's a strong possibility, yes…" Jenny said more to herself when the Goth girl shared her thoughts about the dubious death. "But from what I've seen, it's always the same dead end. If we're to think that Andersen was the first and the recent ones just copies or some sort of twisted homage, who had the motives to kill Andersen in the first place?"

"Brother," Tony blurted out. "What?" he added as everyone stared at him. "He's the only one still alive as far as we know!"

"Is he?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. We bombed him with all the questions. Parents dead for a long time, but we already knew that, no close family left. And he's still living at the base."

"And his motive?" Jenny moved forward on her chair.

"I'm not sure, but there's no-one else left besides dear brother."

"Have you checked for friends, neighbours?"

"Yes, we did," Ziva answered. "According to her brother, Christine Andersen was a very popular girl. We sent a few names of close friends for McGee to check them up."

"And?"

"Lieutenant Jonathan White, born in 1938, died in Vietnam in 1969, so he's obviously out. Sergeant, nowadays Colonel, Ray O'Donnell, born in 1939, lived in the base until 1997, now retired and living in Florida with wife and grandchildren. Second Lieutenant Hugh Marshall, 1940-1972, Vietnam again. Peter Rosenberg, 1940 according to the driver's licence since he didn't enrol in military life, left the base at eighteen, a year after Christine's death, to pursue his studies. Currently lives in Manassas," McGee's eyes rose from the laptop screen as he finished talking.

"No female friends?"

"Just one, madam. Helen Becket, born in 1941, left the base in 1960 to get married."

"Just that?" Abby asked.

"It was all Gunnery Sergeant Andersen knew. He claims that he never saw her again," Ziva explained.

"Haven't you traced her, McGee?" Gibbs pointed.

"I've tried to. There are 67 Helen Beckets in the tri-state area around that age. But since she got married…"

"We've got no clue if she changed her name or not," Jenny added, more to herself than anyone else in the room.

"She probably did. It was the rule back then, remember?" Ducky remarked. "Pity. A woman's best friend is always a wonderful insight into her personality."

"So, we've got the brother, the guy from Manassas and… I suppose we can add the one in Florida…" Tony summed up. "And the woman."

"Quite a narrow group of suspects," Jenny noticed.

"McGee, run an expanded search on the two living ones for everything you can find. Anything."

"Starting right now, Boss."

"Ziva, go get some coffee. It's going to be a long day."

"Why me?" Ziva stared at her supervisor.

"Someone has to do it."

"Actually, nobody has to leave the room,. All one has to do is phone Cynthia" Jenny said, as she prepared herself to rise up from the chair. But the moment she tried to shift her weight to her legs, they failed her and she lost her balance, landing on the floor if it wasn't for Ducky and DiNozzo to quickly grab her.

"Jen!" she heard Gibbs calling next to her. She hadn't even noticed him rushing towards her from the other side of the room. Supported by Ducky and Tony's firm grip on both of her arms, she tried to stand up, failing miserably again as her numb limbs were incapable of holding her up. And then she realised why.

_Shit, the medication!_, she recalled as the three men dragged her back to her seat almost as if she was a lifeless doll. The meeting had messed up her schedule and she had completely forgotten to take the medication on time. The sound of Gibbs' voice repeating her name for what seemed to be the third or fourth time brought her back.

"Jen!"

"I'm fine, Jethro," she answered at last. Everyone was staring at her, badly hiding their curiosity. Gibbs had knelt in front of her chair, precaution and discreteness about their relationship totally forgotten.

"Fine? You gotta be kidding me! You'd be lying on that floor if they hadn't grabbed you!"

"I'm fine. It was just… I lost my balance. A bit of dizziness. It's hardly the end of the world." She spotted Ducky's piercing stare firm on her and she eyed him harshly.

"Ducky, would you take a look at her?" Gibbs asked, turning to the doctor.

"I said I'm fine."

"I would, Jethro. But it seems fairly obvious to me that our esteemed Director doesn't want my help."

"Where were we?" Jenny cut through.

"What?" Gibbs turned back to her, rising to his feet.

"Where were we? The case."

"Huh… you were going to order some coffee. Madam," Tony replied, feeling quite silly.

"I said _the case_, Agent DiNozzo."

"Peter Rosenberg, Colonel O'Donnell and Helen Becket, " Ziva answered hastily.

"Yes. I suppose the logical move would be talking to them. To Rosenberg at least, since the Colonel is a bit too far and the woman's whereabouts are unknown."

"Now, madam?" was McGee's turn to ask, but a killing look from Gibbs made him correct himself. "I mean… now, Boss?"

"DiNozzo, Ziva, go to Manassas and interview Rosenberg. McGee, try everything to find out where Helen Becket is."

"On our way, Boss." Tony, Ziva and McGee all rose from their chairs.

"Go with them, Jethro." Jenny heard herself sounding even sterner than she had meant to.

"They don't need me by their side to ask some questions."

"It was an order, Agent Gibbs."

"I'm well-known for disobeying orders." Despite his concern, her harsh manner was starting to irritate him. The last thing he wanted now was to leave her side.

"Special Agent Gibbs."

"You may go, Jethro," Ducky intervened. "I'll stay here."

Gibbs' glance moved towards the old doctor whose in-control presence calmed him down a bit, although his preoccupation with his lover and their child was the only thing on his mind now. "I appreciate it, Ducky, but I think I ought to stay here as well."

"Er, if someone needs me, I'll be in my lab, right?" said an anxious-to-get-out-of-there Abby. Her presence had been completely forgotten by the rest of the occupants in the room. Without even waiting for an answer, she ran to the door.

"Jethro, I want this case closed. A week has already passed and it'll start leaking to the press in a short time and I don't want the agency's name dragged through the mud, so go with your team and solve it."

"Fine, Director," he spat her title as he used to every time they clashed with each other. "If that's what you wish…"

"It is," she said, just in time to see a very pissed off Gibbs crossing her office and almost banging the door off its hinges. She couldn't help but shut her eyes and sigh. It was not easy to her either.

"Will you fetch me my handbag, Ducky? I doubt I can trust myself to get it."

"Pills won't do much for you at this moment."

"I don't have exactly much of a choice, do I?"

"Why did you forget to take it?"

"Too much work and changes of plans."

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired. Extremely tired. Weak. All the textbook symptoms."

"Pills will take a while to have any effect. I'll give you a shot of corticosteroids instead. I'll be back in a minute."

Jenny just nodded in response. As he left the office, she dropped the hardened look she had adopted the moment she collapsed. For a moment, she thought about how it would it be if she didn't have to carry the burden all by herself. To have the support and care of her lover and friends. Not that many of them left, though. Her work and her ambition had seen to it. Despite knowing Ziva for years and working alongside her in the most dangerous situations, they had sort of grown apart after coming to D.C. DiNozzo... they had enjoyed some playful banter, mainly during brief Gibbs retiring, but after the Jeanne Benoît affair, she couldn't blame him for not trusting her anymore. And McGee… McGee respected her as the Director, nothing more. Ducky; they had been friends. She wasn't sure if they still were.

And then there was Jethro. Who was now really enraged with her. But she had been left with no other choice than push him aside. More than ever, she had wanted to accept his concern. More than ever she had wanted to throw everything out the window and tell him. Let him take care of her. Assure her that everything was going to be alright despite both knowing it was a lie. For the first time in her life, she wanted to rely on someone else.

A knock at the door brought her back from her maudlin thoughts. It was certainly Ducky. "Come in."

The Scottish doctor appeared in the doorway, carrying his medical kit. "Back. Feeling worse?"

"Just the same fatigue."

Ducky dropped the kit on the conference table and took his seat next to her. "Has it been worse lately?"

She shrugged, quickly regretting it as her fragile body protested. "A bit, I suppose. Not unusual with what I do for a living."

"I hope you're aware that the pregnancy can aggravate all the Polymyositis symptoms," Ducky took a small, round flask from the kit and then a packed syringe.

"I know. And I can handle it with the medication. Today was a silly mistake."

"What about the birth? You think you'll find a way to… handle it as well?" Ducky said while discarding the syringe from the package, piercing the flask's rubber top, deliberately not facing the woman in front of him. "Such a huge effort may kill you, Jennifer. Even with a caesarean section."

"Better than waiting for the day my lungs decide to collapse, no? Or better yet, my heart."

He confirmed that no air had been left in the syringe and then turned to her. "I'll have to give it straight on your thigh."

"Fine." Her hands went for the hem of her skirt, pulling it upwards and lowering one of her stockings.

"Try not to contract. I'll apply it directly in the muscles." Ducky cleaned the area on her thigh with a piece of cotton.

Jenny shivered lightly as the cold cotton came in contact with her skin. The needle pierced the soft surface of her thigh.

"Done. Now wait a few minutes before trying to stand up again." The doctor removed the now empty syringe, wrapping the discarded cotton around the needle. "And just take the vitamins and the supplements today. Resume the corticosteroid tablets tomorrow as normal."

"Ok. Ducky?"

"Yes?"

"I don't remember signing any authorisation to buy corticosteroids. In fact, although I'm not an expert on the matter, I can't think of any use for it in the autopsy room."

"A friend of mine who owned me a few favours supplied me. I thought it would be good to have a bit at hand."

"Because of me?"

"Yes. As you pointed, there's no use for steroids in an autopsy."

"I think I should… thank you, then."

"There's no need to."

"I insist."

Still sitting, she tried to stretch her legs and was relieved to feel the liberty of movements slowly coming back.

"What're you going to tell Jethro?"

"That it was just dizziness. Not exactly unheard of in pregnant women."

"I suppose I'll have to… play along then?"

"You don't have to. I wouldn't ask you to."

"I prefer to step aside, then."

"Yes. I understand. Can I try to stand up already?"

"Let's give it a try. But lose the heels. Those things won't do you any good. Here, take my hand."

She grabbed it, her grip not so gentle when she realised the amount of strength that she would need. Her other hand went for the table edge and her now bare feet sank on the carpet. With a last pull from Ducky, she managed to finally rise from the chair.

"Careful, careful…" he said, as she wobbled. "Don't overdo it."

"I'm fine," she answered, attempting a few steps and feeling like a trembling toddler.

"May I trust you to stay here in your office, resting and recovering?"

The patronising tone did little good to her nerves. "I've got work to do."

"As long as it is behind that desk over there and not all over the building. MTAC included. At least for a couple of hours."

"How many?"

"Two, just to be on the safe side. I don't need to remind you that a fall on your current state can be very dangerous and not just for you."

"I know."

"Call me if you need something. I'll be downstairs."

"Right. Thank you."

Ducky nodded in response and grabbed his medical kit, making sure he wasn't leaving anything behind. With a last experienced look, he assure himself that she was alright and then headed to the door.

When the doorknob clicked she finally found herself alone. She had been longing for that. To be in control again.

Still firmly supported by the desk, she walked around it and sat on her large chair. The familiarity of that simple gesture soothed her. Like she was coming back to herself again, after everything that had happened. A simple mistake had threatened to ruin everything. Although she must have been used to it by now; usually her mistakes tended to reach large proportions.

She had the team, and especially Gibbs, to deal with later. The former wouldn't require much from her. A quick remark later on the evening just in a way of courtesy. But with Jethro… she would better prepare herself for a shouting match and a troubled night. Not exactly what she needed after that afternoon.

Until then, her disease had just manifested itself in the overwhelming fatigue she had been feeling for a while. Despite knowing the clock was ticking, the collapse had scared her, making her feel vulnerable and powerless. She wasn't used to either.

She took a look at her desk. She would have to get Gibbs and their upcoming argument out of her head if she wanted to get any work done before they arrived. Now that she has been included into the investigation, there was no way she wouldn't be involved until the end. The field agent in her was having a feast. That was definitely a welcome distraction.

* * *

_P.S.: About Jenny' disease, I took the creatine kinesa tip from the show, ran a search on it and picked up the illness I thought suited this story best._

_Reviews are appreciated! _


	22. Moving Back and Forth

_A/N: Gosh, I can't believe I haven't posted in almost two months… Usual excuse, work and studies... Once more, thank you very much for your reviews, they're greatly appreciated. Cheers love, for the beta-reading and the patience! _

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* * *

_

"I'll never, ever complain about your driving again, Ziva." Dinozzo leant against the car's door just for a few seconds, waiting for his stomach to settle down. "After all this racing, you seem to drive like a rural old granny."

"Don't push it, Tony." Ziva's eyes searched for their boss. "Let's go, he's already ringing the bell."

Tony grimaced and walked around the car, following Ziva into the building. Gibbs was already at the doorstep, ringing the doorbell insistently.

"That won't make us very popular, Boss," Tony pointed out as the screechy bell filled the air again for about twenty seconds.

He was saved by a voice coming through the intercom. "Yes?"

"NCIS," Gibbs replied hastily.

"You'll probably have to explain what it means, Boss…" Tony whispered.

"No need!" Ziva exclaimed as the door unlocked. She pushed it and they entered, ignoring the lift and climbing the stairs all the way up to the third floor.

An old woman was waiting for them at the landing outside her doorstep, looking quite puzzled about why three federal agents had decided to pay her a visit. She remained silent as they arrived at the last steps.

"Special Agent Gibbs, this is Special Agent DiNozzo and Officer David, NCIS." Gibbs flashed his badge, quickly followed by Tony and Ziva.

"That stands for Naval Crim-" Tony began.

"Naval Criminal Investigation Service, I know. Although it didn't have the 'C' back then."

"We're looking for Mr Peter Rosenberg," Gibbs cut in impatiently.

"He's… he's just arrived. What's the matter?"

"May we have a word with him… Mrs Rosenberg?" Ziva risked.

The woman nodded.

"So, was it really a prank, honey?" A man around the same age appeared on the doorstep, wearing a dressing gown over a casual shirt and trousers. Seeing them, he moved near his wife, landing his hand on her shoulder.

"No… they're the real thing."

"Peter Rosenberg?"

"Yes?"

"Come with us." Gibbs uttered, making Ziva and Tony exchange discrete but quite surprised glances.

"Where?" The old man eyed him confusedly.

"Our headquarters, Washington Navy Yard."

"On what grounds, may I ask?"

"We've got a few questions regarding a murder enquiry," Ziva asked before Gibbs become too temperamental.

"What?" Mrs Rosenberg gasped.

"I'm sure you got the wrong person, I know nothing about-"

"That's for us to decide." Gibbs stepped forward.

"Ok! But I'm pretty sure you'll figure out very soon I'm not the person you're looking for. Can I at least grab a coat?"

"Make it quick."

"Peter…" Mrs Rosenberg handed him a coat hanging near the door and grabbed the dressing gown that he was handing to her.

"Calm down, Helen. I'll be back for dinner, I'm sure. This is just a big mess."

"Helen?" Ziva stared at the old woman.

"Yes…?"

"Could you tell us your maiden name, Mrs Rosenberg?" Tony asked.

"Becket. Why are you interested?"

"Did you happen to live at Quantico Base?"

"Yes, I did. Until I got married. Can someone please ex-"

"Bring her too," Gibbs rushed, making sure Peter Rosenberg was following him down the stairs. Still exchanging discreet glances, Ziva and Tony conducted the perplexed Helen Rosenberg right after them.

* * *

"Found it!" McGee reached for his mobile phone, speed-dialling Gibbs' number.

_"DiNozzo speaking."_

He stared at the phone's screen just to make sure he had dialled the correct number. "Tony, why're you answering Boss's phone?"

_"Because he tossed it at me. What do you want?"_

"I've traced Helen Becket and you're not going to believe this. She married Peter Rosenberg and is in Manassas-"

_"Wrong. She's right here in the car's backseat, heading over there."_

"You found out that too? Ok… Hang on! Why are you bringing her here?"

_"Because Boss thought it'd be better this way."_

"Right… I'll prepare the conference room then."

* * *

"Ducky? May I?"

"Come in, we've finished already." Ducky removed the latex gloves and moved towards the sink, washing his hands. "Mr Palmer, would you deliver these papers to Agent Lee when you leave? Yes, Abigail? Oh, and please, store Petty Officer Lopez before you go, Mr Palmer."

Abby walked by him, her heavy boots echoing all over the autopsy room. Behind her, Palmer was moving a body into the fridge. She leant against the wall near the sink.

Palmer closed the fridge's door and grabbed some papers from the desk. "On my way, Dr Mallard."

"What can I do for you?" Ducky asked again.

She made sure that Palmer was no longer in the room. "What was that in the meeting?"

"What do you mean, my dear?"

"You know. The Director. The floor. The Director almost hitting the floor. How's she?"

"Oh, that…" Ducky grabbed a piece of paper and dried his hands. "She's alright."

"Is she? That was so… weird. And not 'weird' in a good sense, 'weird' in a… weird sense."

"You know how our Director is. Too much work and not enough rest."

"Is she really ok? And besides her…? Is _it_ ok too?"

"I'm not sure about what you're referring to… Abigail." The doctor took off the disposable coat covered in blood stains.

Abby looked to her side and frowned while trying to find a better way to explain, although doing it without revealing too much was a bit of a challenge. "You remember the blood sample I had in my lab? The one with no identification?"

"Yes, I do."

"You've talked about it… with her, haven't you?"

"I have. Oh, I see... '_It_' is fine too."

"Is it?" Abby smiled broadly. "Oh my gosh, I was so scared! It'd have been so sad if something bad had happened!"

"No need to worry anymore."

"Whew, thanks a lot, Ducky! Now I can work properly. I must go back to my lab. See ya!"

"Bye, Abby."

The Goth scientist turned on her feet with a lot of noise coming from her bracelets and necklaces. She had barely reached the door when she turned back.

"Ducky?"

"Yes?"

"Please tell me it's a _Gibblet_. It has to be a _Gibblet_!"

"That goes beyond my knowledge, Abigail." Ducky meant to drop the subject but Abby had no intention to do so.

"Oh come on, you weren't there when McGee ran Gibbs and the Director's photos on that morphing program to create a daughter. She was way too cute!"

"I believe she was-"

"Ducky! Red hair and blue eyes!"

"Yes, Abigail. I believe you."

* * *

"Here are the files you asked for, madam."

"Thank you. You may leave them here." Jenny looked up at her assistant over her spectacles.

"And Agent Gibbs and his team are back already."

"Are they? So soon? You sure?"

"I asked security to phone me as soon as they crossed the entrance door, madam. As you had requested."

"Yes, yes. Alright then. You may go, Cynthia. It's past 1900."

"Thank you, madam."

Jenny waited until she left. She took her spectacles and massaged her tired eyes, preparing herself for what was coming next. Carefully, she leant down in search for her discarded shoes. After stepping into them, she rose from the chair, her hands still going to the edge of the table for support.

The high heels made it all more complicated. Despite not feeling so weak anymore, her entire body was sore and her legs tired. But at least she wasn't wobbling anymore. Feeling confident again, she walked to the door in small steps.

* * *

"So… what's the situation?" McGee asked as he took his place behind the one-way window next to the interrogation room.

"No idea," Tony answered at his side.

"He's a suspect?"

"No idea."

"Can't you clarify the situation, Tony?"

"I'm afraid I can't, Elflord. Boss looked like he was on a rush to get back so he dragged the oldtimers from Manassas to here. The wife is downstairs having a heart attack with only Ziva as company. Quite a sad way to go…"

"She's calmer." Ziva appeared on the doorstep, entering the room.

"What've you done to her?"

"Nothing, Tony. Just a glass of sugared water. Has he started already?" She walked near the other two agents and stared at the interrogation room. "Where's Gibbs?"

"He shoved Rosenberg in there and made a disappearing act on me," Tony elucidated her.

"After all that rush?"

"Yeah. Go figure…" Tony made a small pause. "So, what the hell was that in the meeting? For a moment I thought Jenny was going to smash herself on the ground!"

"She lost her balance. She said that," McGee answered.

"I heard her too. All the same, she was too hard on Boss. He was just… worried. And it's certainly not like him to even show it that way."

"She never liked people worrying over her," Ziva said.

"Heck, even I was worried."

"You don't resent her anymore?"

"What do you mean, Ziva?"

"You know. Jeanne."

"It's all water under the bridge. And that's a saying, by the way."

"You haven't answered my question though."

"Maybe I don't want to."

* * *

Jenny turned towards the narrow corridors that led to the interrogation room. Everyone in the bullpen had informed her that Gibbs and his team has been seen taking someone there, which had surprised her at first but now she was eager to know what had they found.

Someone collided quite painfully into her as she was passing by the corner. While massaging her abused shoulder and arm, she recognised the other person.

"Jethro! Why the rush?"

"What're you doing here?" he asked promptly, not hiding his irritation.

"I work here."

"Why aren't you not in your office, resting? Want to fall again, Jen?"

"Of course not! I'm fine now. Who did you bring in? Peter Rosenberg?"

He trapped her against the wall. "What the hell was that, Jen?" he asked almost in a whisper.

"I lost my balance. How many times do I need to repeat myself?"

"That wasn't just dizziness. You weren't even able to stand on your feet. And why did you kick me out like that?"

"I didn't kick you out. You had work to do-"

"Work that could've been done by my team."

"… and I wasn't as bad as you thought so. There was no point in you staying."

"Not even the fact I care for you? That you're carrying my child? Damn it Jen, did you really have to throw me out as if I didn't matter at all?"

She looked around, trying to spot someone else in the corridor apart from them. Relieved not to see anyone, she turned her gaze to him.

"You know you do."

"Do I?"

"This is hardly the place to have this conversation. We'll finish it later, back at my house."

"You can be sure we will."

Jenny stepped away from the wall, forcing him to let her go. "Where were you going in such a hurry anyway?"

"To your office. To see you."

"Well, I'm here now. What did you want?"

"Ask you how you were feeling."

"I'm fine. See? Fine. Now, who's in the interrogation room?"

"Peter Rosenberg. And Helen Becket is in the conference room."

"Where have you found her?" she asked surprised.

"Same place as Rosenberg. They're married."

"Are they? I didn't see that one coming."

"No-one did."

"You're going to start the interview?"

"Yeah."

"Good, let's go then." She meant to walk towards the room but was halted on her tracks by a grip on her wrist.

"You're sure you're ok?"

"I am. Now let's go, already."

* * *

"Bosses coming," McGee alerted from the doorstep, entering back in the side-room.

"Did I detect a plural in there?" Tony asked.

"You did."

"Excuse me." Jenny entered the room almost at the same time as Gibbs appeared in the interrogation room. She took her place between McGee and DiNozzo.

"Er, you're ok, madam?" the younger agent asked.

"I am. Thanks for your concern."

"You gave us quite a scare, Jenny. I mean, Director," Tony corrected himself.

"There was no need. But thank you. So, what've we got so far?"

Tony was cut by Rosenberg's voice in the other room.

* * *

"May I finally know the reason why am I here, Agent Gibbs?"

"Four reasons, actually," Gibbs grabbed the plasma remote and switched it on. "Laura Carlson, Holly Davidson, Clarice Murphy and… Christine Andersen."

The old man's eyes opened wide at the last photo.

"Christine? What…? She died a long time ago!"

"Yes. But we have reason to believe she can be connected to some recent murders."

"Fifty years later?"

"Yes. Apart from Andersen, do you recognise any other victim?"

"She was a lovely girl. Quite bright and intelligent, I dare to say."

* * *

"Get Ducky here, Agent David," Jenny said, stepping forward towards the mirror as if trying to get near the two men.

"Ducky?" Ziva repeated.

"Yes. Ducky."

"Ok. Back in a minute."

* * *

"Did you know her?"

"'Course I did. Her family lived right across us. We were childhood sweethearts."

"And yet you end up marrying her best friend."

"Helen? Yes. Christine died before marriage even crossed our minds."

"Must've been quite a shock, no? Her death."

"It was. To everyone who knew her. Are you investigating her death after all this time? Is that it? I thought, we all thought it had been an accident…"

"Mr Rosenberg, we believe her death might be connected to a row of recent murders occurring at the base. These women were found dead in the las-"

"You think she was murdered too?"

* * *

"You sent for me, Director?" Ducky entered the room, followed by Ziva.

Jenny turned towards him.

"I need your professional opinion."

"Sure. In what field? That's Mr Rosenberg, I presume."

"Indeed. There's something bothering me, Ducky."

Tony, McGee and Ziva exchanged a curious look,

"Jethro's tried twice to focus on the recent victims and Rosenberg ignored him, changing the subject back to Christine Andersen. There was absolutely no reaction to the victim's photos apart from-"

"Christine."

"Yes."

"That's interesting," Ducky examined the man in the adjacent room.

"Is it? I find it a bit creepy. The woman's been dead for fifty years and no-one shuts up about her. Almost like that movie Rebecca. All that's missing is the crazy housekeeper," Tony blurted out, earning looks from everyone in the room.

"If only Jethro tried to call his attention again just for us to sure…" Ducky continued.

"He kills everyone who interrupts him," McGee recalled.

"Maybe there's no need," Jenny remarked as Gibbs formed his next question.

* * *

"Given the way the bodies were arranged and disposed-"

"There was some scuttlebutt… rumours about her death not being accidental back in the day. Not that I gave them some credit. Poor Christine was gone already, there was nothing else we could do for her."

* * *

"Denial is a powerful weapon, Director."

Jenny nodded, her mind ticking around the case.

"What's he denying though? Her death or the three recent victims?" McGee asked.

"I'd risk saying… both. In different ways. He's obviously ignoring the recent ones, like they didn't matter at all. And about Christine… I think her death affected him more deeply than he's saying."

"Can you tell all of that just by staring at the man for a couple of minutes?" Tony asked, frankly curious.

"It's not carved in stone, Anthony. But I dare say, in the end, we're all much more similar, much more textbook than what we like to think."

"Do you think it can be him?" Jenny asked.

"Denial is a mechanism of defence, Director, not exactly a motivation for murder. We all suffer from it to a certain degree in our lives."

"Yes, but do you think it's possible?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. I can't really tell yet."

"His wife is downstairs. I think a few words with her are in order. Dr Mallard, Officer David, follow me. Ziva, bring a copy of the case file, please."

* * *

_Thank you for reading! Leave a review if you feel to! :)_


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